


Argent Night

by alicedragons



Series: Tales of the Night [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Not central to the story but it is present throughout), Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Brothels, Dehumanization, Derogatory Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medieval AU, Mentions of Death, Mild Blood, Near Death, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vampire AU, Violence, threats of forced prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicedragons/pseuds/alicedragons
Summary: “vampires are ruthless creatures. their souls are dead. they lost all compassion the day they were turned. there’s nothing left in 'em but bloodlust. don’t show mercy or kindness, ‘cause they don’t understand what those things mean. they’re barbarians, and it’s our job to eradicate them from the world.”Since his childhood, Edge has strived to become a prodigious vampire hunter like his brother. But with the King's new laws against hunting, his training alone might not be enough to prepare him for the troubles to come. And perhaps vampires aren't the world's only demons.______________________________Warning:While not quite a 'dark-fic', this story contains some disturbing themes pertaining to non-con, prostitution, and violence. Detailed warnings will be in the chapter notes, and tags may be updated.





	1. Be Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions of death and execution, mentions of violence, dehumanisation of a species (this will be present throughout the fic)

_“faster.”_

Edge panted, resting his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath. “I—can’t,” he gasped, narrowly dodging another swing of Red’s wooden stick.

“left,” Red instructed, tapping the stick in the mud at Edge’s feet. “right. left. back.”

Edge stumbled, almost colliding with the fence of the large pen they were practicing in. Red caught him by his shirt, lifting him to his feet. “Red—please. I’m tired.”

“bein’ tired ain’t goin’ ta save yer life kid. left.”

Edge stumbled again, this time toppling over and landing on his knees with a painful _smack._ He whimpered as mud splattered his already filthy clothing and face. He dug his fists into the ground, wet dirt oozing from between his fingers. “I want ta _stop,”_ he snapped, looking up at his brother. “This isn’ even fair! Yer bigger than me!”

Red’s gaze wandered him for a moment, features sinking to a frown. Eventually he sighed in concession, dropping his makeshift sword into the mud beside him, and offering Edge his hand. “alright, c’mon, get up.” Edge accepted the hand, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

He scowled down at his soiled clothes, trying to shake the mud out of them. “Ya ruined my shirt,” he muttered.

“it was ruined anyway,” Red remarked as he pulled his jacket off the fence and shrugged it back on. “come. let’s sit.”

Edge grudgingly climbed onto the fence beside him, grimacing at the feeling of the foul mud dripping from his bones. Across the pen, pigs scrambled for the scraps of food being thrown to them, their trotters kicking up mud and leaving smatterings on the stone walls Edge had vigorously washed down only this morning. He pulled a face, looking away. Red was smiling at him, but the glimmer of weariness in his scarlet eyes betrayed him. “do ya know why i train ya, bro?” he asked. “why do ya think i bother with all this?”

Edge shrugged, nudging at a stone with the toe of his shoe. “So that I can protect myself.”

“yup. why else?”

Edge frowned, looking up. “So that I can be a proper fighter…?” Edge didn’t quite understand. Thus far, their training hadn’t extended beyond footwork sparring with wooden sticks.

“no such thing as a proper fighter,” Red told him, holding him with a pointed look. “anyone can fight. it’s about knowin’ how ta win.”

Edge sighed carpingly, scowling at the dirt beneath his feet. “I don’t understand. What’s the point of all this, then?”

Red was quiet for a time, and Edge could read the conflict in his expression. There was something sad there as well, deep within his eyes as he watched Edge. “yer eight now, aren’t ya?” he asked at last.

“Yes.” Edge’s arms were folded in a display of contempt, but it stung a little that Red had needed to ask his age.

“ye’ll be out of striped shirts soon.” Red seemed to say it almost to himself, as if contemplating the fact.

“Yes… Red, what’s this about?”

Silently, Red turned, placing a hand on Edge’s shoulder. The sobriety of his expression had deepened, and Edge suddenly felt anxious. Red seldom had that look on his face… unless he was returning from a hunt. “i need ta come clean—yer old enough ta know the truth, an’ i’ve been puttin’ this off fer too long.”

Edge clung onto the damp wood of the fencepost to keep his balance, but fear gripped his soul, and he wished simply to wrap his arms around himself. “The truth? Red, what truth?” Panic bled into his tone, and he swallowed, trying to keep it from showing on his face.

“i’ve been lyin’ to ya,” Red admitted, smiling wryly.

“About… what?”

Edge didn’t like it when Red was worried. Because when Red was worried, it made him feel very small. If there was something that scared his big brother, then how could Edge ever hope to feel safe? But Red’s instincts were sharp, and Edge’s anxieties didn’t escape his notice. “hey, c’mere,” he said, arms outstretched in invitation. Normally, Edge would refuse any sort of physical affection. He hated it when Red made him feel like a child; he was far more mature than his brother in so many ways. For now though, he accepted the hug, leaning into Red’s chest. Safe.

Neither of them spoke, but Edge could feel the faint protective aura around Red. Edge was stubborn, but he never rejected Red’s comforting projections. He knew Red liked acting the big brother… and Edge wasn’t entirely opposed to letting him. Red broke the silence by clearing his throat, and Edge looked up. The marginally tense smile had returned, and Red gave Edge a questioning look. “ya sure ya want ta know the truth?”

Edge withdrew from Red, nodding firmly. “Yes, I’m sure.”

For a brief second, Edge thought Red looked pained. But he blinked, and the smile had returned. Red gently knuckled the crown of Edge’s skull. “alright, bud.”

Red opened his mouth, but was cut off by the shrill sound of a horn blowing. They both spun in search of the source of the noise. Behind them, people had stopped in their tracks, and crowds had begun to gather around the town’s central square. Edge’s gaze fell on the figure in the centre of the crowd—a tall, burly monster, dressed in black, red, and gold. The colours of the royal family, Edge realised in awe. The monster’s long cloak billowed in the wind behind him, and his attire was clean and well-maintained. He was clearly from the Capital. No one this far west dressed so well.

“come on,” Red muttered, sliding from the fence and guiding Edge across the cobblestone. Edge’s mud stained clothes brushed against the other villagers as they pushed through the crowds. No one seemed to notice the two young skeletons though, every eye on the cloaked figure in the centre of the square.

The regal monster was holding up a long piece of parchment, dark eyes searching the villagers beneath him. When he seemed satisfied with the number of monsters gathered, he cleared his throat. “By Royal Decree, the hunting of vampires is hereby banned,” he read. Hushed whispers ran through the crowd. Edge glanced up at Red, but his brother’s face was a mask of composure. “Civilians are advised against engaging with these creatures,” the monster continued. “Any knowledge of these creatures must be reported directly to the Royal Guard. Henceforth, all silver shall be confiscated. Anyone found in possession of silver post the confiscation shall be imprisoned. Anyone found harming or killing vampires shall be found guilty of treason, and executed.”

A few gasps rang out, and Edge felt Red’s grip tightening around his hand. Though he was only eight, Edge knew enough of the world to understand what words like ‘treason’ and ‘execution’ meant. He wanted to be brave, but they scared him. He clung onto Red’s arm, eyes nervously darting between the speaker and the horrified stares of the crowd.

“This law shall be effective immediately, by order of his Royal Majesty, King Asgore.” The monster rolled up the parchment, lifting his chin as he surveyed the crowd. Frightened whispers rang through the throng of monsters, but Edge couldn’t tell who the words belonged to. A shout sounded from somewhere behind him, and he tried to spin to locate who it had come from, but Red tugged at his hand.

“come on, bro. let’s go.”

Edge wanted to linger—to try and understand what all the yelling was about—but he wasn’t given a choice as Red half-dragged him away from the commotion. As they left the crowd, Edge caught sight of a few more cloaked monsters – wearing the same reds and blacks and golds of the royal family – nailing posters to the walls and lampposts. Edge couldn’t read very well, but the words ‘vampires’ and ‘silver’ and ‘executed’ seemed to blare out at him. He looked away.

He shivered at the sudden feeling of icy rain on his bones. The downpour started quickly, and soon his clothes were soaked, the mud and dirt washing away. But Red didn’t stop, his grip on Edge’s hand firm as he hurried them through the streets. Only when they reached a narrow alleyway wedged between two dingy buildings, did Red bring them to a halt. He glanced around quickly, alert, before ushering Edge towards the small stable at the end of the cobblestone path.

The sound of drunken laughter was audible through the thin walls of the tavern as they passed it, and Edge wondered if the monsters inside had heard the news yet. “Red…” he whispered, fear tainting his small voice. But Red hushed him, not speaking until they were securely under the cover of the stable roof, the large wooden door barred behind them.

He turned to look at Edge, his features hardened into a dark frown. “do ya understand what happened out there, bro?” he asked, his voice uncannily steady.

“They… banned vampire huntin’,” Edge said slowly as Red bustled past him, gathering the pan they used to make their meals. “I can cook.” Red looked up and shrugged, handing Edge the pan. Red seldom cooked, and when he did, Edge often found himself feeding his dinner to the mules they shared the stable with. Edge’s sockets widened as Red extracted three large eggs from the pocket of his jacket. “Red—did ya steal those?” Edge hissed, giving his brother a rebuking look.

Red shrugged, seeming unfazed by the accusation. “’course i did. we’ve got ta eat, just as much as anyone else.”

Edge frowned, but grudgingly took the eggs. “Ya shouldn’t steal from those people, Red. They were very kind offerin’ us work on their land.”

Red scoffed, sitting heavily on a bale of hay and shrugging off his jacket. “kind? yeah, awfully kind a’ them ta let us scrub the shit off their barn all day while they feed us the scraps the pigs don’ want. do they think that just ‘cause we’re made a’ bones, we don’ need ta eat?” Red’s chuckles were derisive. He began to strike their firestones together, the small flame igniting the bundle sticks they’d gathered this morning.

Edge frowned, but conceded the point with a sigh as he cracked the eggs over the pan and allowed them to cook slowly over their small fire. He wearily eyed the water seeping through the cracks of the flimsy wooden roof, but decided they would be dry enough for tonight. Red lounged against the haybale as Edge cooked. A damp feeling had settled over Edge’s soul, and he regarded Red somberly. “Red, the decree…”

Edge fell silent as Red looked up, his expression a stiff mask of gloom. “yeah. that’s goin’ ta be a problem fer us.”

“Why?” Edge asked, shifting the eggs with his worn spatula. “Do ya think…?” he swallowed, trying to stifle the thought. But Red’s gaze was intent on him, and Edge knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his troubles from his brother for long. “Do ya think the vampires will start… killin’?” Edge’s voice cracked on the word, and he quickly returned his attention to the eggs.

He almost flinched when Red started to laugh. The sound was empty though, and Edge didn’t have to look up to tell that his brother wasn’t smiling. “bud, they’ve been killin’ this whole time. they’re just subtle about it.”

Edge caught sight of Red’s grimace, and he frowned. “But then, why would the King—won’t this just make it easier fer them?”

“heh. yer a smart kid, bro,” Red said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “i don’ know what the king’s angle is here, but i don’ think he’s ever given two shits about people like us.” Red’s tone was bitter, his hands clenched around fistfuls of hay.

“Red,” Edge said quietly, “ya shouldn’t say such things.”

“well it’s true,” Red said, blasé. “i know it—you know it. hell, every idiot in the kingdom knows it. it’s the sayin’ it that’ll get ya inta trouble.”

“Which is why ya should learn to keep yer mouth shut,” Edge intoned, scolding. “If anyone heard—”

“ah, don’ you worry ‘bout me,” Red said, waving him off. “ain’t goin’ ta let some royal twats scare me. how’re those eggs?”

“They’re ready.” Edge lifted the pan from the fire and shifted the eggs onto a plate, offering it to his brother.

Red cocked a brow bone. “what about you? can’t go givin’ me all three.”

Edge shook his head, staring sullenly at the stable floor. “I’m not hungry.”

“well, yer goin’ ta be. an’ it’s my job ta make sure ya eat—whether ya like it or not.”

Edge regarded the eggs with disinterest as Red offered them to him. “Red, what were ya goin’ ta tell me earlier? Before… the announcement.” This seemed to take Red aback, and he grimaced, shovelling a piece of egg into his mouth. “Was it about vampires?”

This time, Red’s shock was truly apparent. He choked slightly on his mouthful of egg, swallowing thickly before he stared at Edge. “how’d ya know that?”

Edge rolled his eyes and stood, placing the dirty cooking pan beneath one of the cracks in the roof, allowing it to catch the dripping water. “I’m not an idiot. Even though you insist on treatin’ me like one.” Edge uttered the last part beneath his breath, and Red frowned. Sighing, Edge sat beside him, folding his arms across his chest and holding his brother’s stare firmly. “Yer a terrible liar, brother. If ya went out _huntin_ ’ fer deer—as ya so claim—then we’d be eating like that pompous wretch of a King ya hate so much.”

Red watched Edge wordlessly for a moment, his face slowly stretching into a grin. “ha, last time i underestimate my little brother.” He clapped Edge on the back, chuckling quietly. Edge didn’t quite share his amusement however, and he picked at one of the eggs impassively.

“Is that why ye’ve been trainin’ me? Ta be a hunter like you?”

This wiped the smile off Red’s face, as clean as the rain pelting down on the roof above them. The sadness returned to his eyes in full force. “yeah,” he confessed. “yeah, it is.” Red shifted in his seat, turning to face Edge. He took another bite of his egg, chewing carefully before speaking again. “i was… selfish. i put yer trainin’ off fer years, ‘cause i didn’ want ta see my little brother growin’ up. it’s… it’s not a great life. i ain’t goin’ ta sugarcoat it fer ya, edgy.” Edge was surprised by the nickname. Red hadn’t used it since he’d been a babybones. But strangely, it brought a small sense of comfort to his soul in the midst of the darkening mood. “it’s shit. it’s dangerous. any day could be yer last.”

A chill ran down Edge’s spine, and he hugged himself, drawing his knees to his chest. “So then, why do ya do it?” he asked, although he felt certain he already knew the answer. It would be the same as his own would have been.

Red smiled, shrugging. “i guess… it’s just nice goin’ ta sleep at night knowin’ i’m doin’ somethin’ to keep my little brother safe.” The answer seemed to come easily to Red, and Edge accepted the touch of Red’s hand on his arm. The eggs were long finished, Red dropping the dirty plate onto the ground beside him. “they’re nasty things, vampires. killin’ is like a game ta them. an’ they don’ deserve a place in our world.” The bite had returned to Red’s voice, and Edge was certain his mind was lingering on the King’s decree. But he shook his head, forcing his relaxed grin to return. “so, ye’ve been snoopin’ huh? how much do ya know about ‘em?”

Edge frowned in thought. “Well… I know that they have fangs, and—silver kills them, I think.” Realisation struck him, and something lurched uncomfortably in his chest. “Is that why the King banned it?”

“i assume so, yeah,” Red said, stiffly. “anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Edge considered hard, but soon came up blank. “No,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to the stable floor.

“huh. so, pretty much nothin’ beyond what every peasant in the country knows.”

Edge’s gaze snapped up, and he fumed. “Only because ya never told me!” he bit out, fists clenched.

Red threw his hands up in concession. “hey, hey, i know. i ain’t blamin’ ya or nothin’. it’s fine. i can teach ya.”

Edge allowed his scowl to soften, but he still felt irritated. He didn’t like feeling stupid, and Red had always had a knack for patronising him. “Okay, then. Teach me. I want ta know how ta kill them.”

Red’s smile lacked any genuine happiness. “heh, ‘course ya do.” He climbed from the haybale, and turned to dig through the bundle of their meagre possessions. After a minute or so of rifling around, he emerged triumphant, a long silver blade in his hand. He was grinning, but Edge released a small gasp.

“Red, what are ya doin’? Put that thing away—what if someone sees!”

Red seemed unperturbed by Edge’s alarm, grunting as he sat back down beside Edge. “eh, pretty sure we’re safe. who comes lookin’ fer silver in a stable? ‘specially one that smells like this.”

Edge couldn’t argue with that logic, but he felt wary nonetheless, eyeing the blade cautiously. He had been sparring with Red since he was five, but they’d never used actual weapons—much less a real knife. Red had taught Edge how to fight with a knife, but Edge had always preferred the idea of a sword. While he’d never seen them, he’d heard stories of the Royal Guards that patrolled the streets of the Capital. It was said that their swords were made of solid gold, and that it was impossible for dirt to cling to their silken red cloaks. Edge wasn’t sure how much truth there was to the tales, but he’d always liked to think that perhaps someday he could carry a gold sword and wear a red cloak.

The knife in Red’s palm looked old, though the pure silver of its makeup was apparent. Though the hilt was worn, the blade itself was sleek and unmarred by wear. Red offered it to Edge. “take it.”

Edge regarded it as if it were a venomous snake, poised to strike. “But I don’ even know how ta use a proper knife,” he said. “I—I don’t want it.”

“i’ll teach ya. it ain’t hard.” Red held out the blade, meeting Edge’s gaze. “come on. take it. it’s yours.”

Reluctantly, Edge wrapped his fingers around the hilt, examining the way the pale light streaming in from the street lamps outside glinted off the blade. He could feel Red’s intent gaze on him, and he grimaced, placing the knife on the straw beside him. “What good is a knife against a vampire if I don’t even know how ta use it? I’m not even a good fighter!”

“hey—” Red grasped Edge’s arm, drawing his gaze up. “what did i tell ya? ain’t no such thing as good fighters—only ones who win.”

Edge remained unconvinced, crossing his arms sullenly and staring at the ground. “The good ones are the ones who win,” he muttered.

“not always.” Sighing, Red picked up the knife, pointing it in front of him, as if poised for an attack. Edge looked up, watching curiously as Red sliced through the air, his movements surprisingly graceful. Even when they were sparring, Red wasn’t very quick on his feet, but it was clear now that he’d been holding back for Edge’s sake. His movements were precise and deliberate, his eyes focused on the absent figure before him.

Eventually, he relaxed, slouching back and grinning at Edge as he handed the knife back to him. “i’ll teach ya how ta use it properly, at some point. but, first thing’s first.” He sighed, leaning back and glancing at Edge, whose curiosity had suddenly been piqued. “knives, swords—they ain’t yer only weapons. this—” Red tapped a finger against the side of Edge’s skull, “—yer mind—it’s yer most powerful weapon. ye’ve got ta be smarter than ‘em. run away if ya have to, there’s no shame in that. yer honour and courage ain’t worth dyin’ for.”

Edge slowly nodded his understanding. “i’ve been teachin’ ya ta fight with a sword,” Red went on, “‘cause it’s convenient. but knives, daggers, stakes—they’re yer best option when it comes to subtlety. and always silver, it’s got ta be silver or they won’t die.”

“But the King’s banned silver now,” Edge pointed out. “How are y— _we_ supposed ta kill them?”

Red nodded, looking afflicted. “yeah. he did. we’ve just got ta be better at hidin’ it now, is all.” He smiled, though Edge could tell it was only for his sake, a genuine sense of unease beneath it. “don’ worry, bro, i’ve been doin’ this a long time. ain’t goin’ ta let no royal bastard with an ego bigger than ‘is belly tell me what ta do.”

Edge smiled faintly, but couldn’t quash the troubles still churning in his soul. He hadn’t forgotten the words from the King’s decree. “Red… they said they would e-execute—”

“they won’t.” Red was still smiling, but Edge could hear the heavy undertone to his voice. “no one’s executin’ me—or you. i won’t let ‘em.” Edge still felt afraid, but it was difficult not to take assurance from the sheer determination in Red’s voice. Conceding, he nodded, earning him a smile. “right, we’ll get ta the actual fightin’ later, but fer now, ye’ve got ta know what yer up against. ain’t much point trainin’ ta be a vampire hunter if ya can’t recognise ‘em.”

Edge scoffed, pulling his shoulders up and lifting his chin. “I know what a vampire looks like.”

Red lifted a brow bone, regarding Edge with amusement. “do ya now? alright, tell me then. what does a vampire look like?”

“Well, they have fangs.”

“yeah. tell me somethin’ the entire kingdom doesn’t know.”

Edge glowered indignantly. “They have red eyes.”

“wrong.” Red’s expression was hard, and his gaze no longer held any humour. “not all of ‘em have red eyes. only the _really_ hungry ones. and yer goin’ ta be prayin’ ya don’ run inta them at that point.”

Edge felt uncertain suddenly. He considered again, frowning to himself. “Their skin is… pale.”

“not all of ‘em have skin,” Red reminded him. “what about feathered monsters? ones with scales?” Red tapped Edge’s ulna, tilting his head. “bones?”

Edge swallowed, a cold shiver running down his spine. Outside their small stable, the rain continued to pelt down, echoing off the wooden roof like a thousand tiny stones. The mules further back were huddled together for warmth, chewing idly on the hay, completely oblivious to the world outside of these walls. Edge envied them.

“don’t ya worry, kid,” Red said, hoisting his legs up onto the haybale and crossing them. “i’ll be there ta guide ya. yer not alone in this.” He offered Edge a small smile, but Edge struggled to draw comfort from it.

“Silver kills them…” he said, slowly, and Red nodded. “But… how? How do ya…?”

“the soul—it’s where they store all their stolen magic,” Red told him, his tone bitter. “silver directly in the soul’s best, but they can take some serious physical damage externally if yer quick enough.” Red winked, nudging Edge’s shoulder. “and yer not half bad in that regard, are ya?”

Edge found it difficult to share Red’s enthusiasm, his sense of dread growing. He tried to force a weak smile, but it felt a lot more like a grimace. If Red was aware of how discouraged Edge was feeling, he showed no sign of it. He surveyed Edge, before leaning forward and pressing his palm to Edge’s chest. “and _yer_ soul—it’s even more important.”

Edge looked down at his ribcage, frowning. “I don’t understand. Why…?”

“protect yer soul,” Red said. His voice had dropped low; it sounded almost urgent. Edge stared at him in alarm. “don’ let ‘em see it. don’ let ‘em get anywhere near it. all that magic—” Red sucked in a sharp breath, a tormented look in his eyes. “i’ve seen ‘em… tear a monster ta pieces, just fer—” Red looked at Edge and broke off, his teeth pressed together in a hard line. Edge knew the terror in his expression must have been more than apparent, but he had little resolve left to hide it.

Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving nothing but a still, dead silence. Edge watched as Red stood, kicking a few stones over the fire to extinguish it. “c’mon,” he said, nodding at the makeshift straw bed they shared. “i think that’s enough vampire talk fer tonight. let’s get some rest. ye’ve got a lot ta learn, and we’ll need ta be up early tomorrow.”

Edge rose heavily, lying drearily beside his brother on the ground. He felt cold—and not entirely because of the rainwater seeping through the cracks in the stable’s roof. “Red…” he whispered softly. His voice felt very small.

Red’s back was to him, but he hummed in acknowledgement. “wha’s up?”

Edge breathed deeply, drawing his knees to his chest. “What… are they like? The—the vampires?”

For a time, Edge could hear nothing but the weak, intermittent patter of raindrops on the roof, Red remaining still and silent. When at last he turned to face Edge, his expression was guarded. But there was a somber weariness in his eyes, the corners of his sharp teeth turned down in a grimace. When he spoke, his voice seemed to carry a heavy burden. “i told ya i hunted ‘cause i wanted ta keep ya safe,” he began. Edge nodded slowly, frowning. “well… i do, but that’s not the only reason. vampires are—” Red clenched his teeth, and his left eye seemed to glint in the dim light. “they’re abominations,” he spat sourly. “savages. they shouldn’ even exist. they don’ _deserve_ ta exist.”

Edge forced himself not to shudder at the unbridled hatred in his brother’s voice. Red’s breaths were short, and Edge could tell he was struggling to keep his anger tethered. “they’re ruthless creatures,” Red went on. “their souls are dead. they lost all compassion the day they were turned. there’s nothin’ left in ‘em but bloodlust.” He looked at Edge then, and Edge almost flinched at the raw intensity in his brother’s eyes. “don’ hesitate when it comes ta them. don’ show mercy or kindness, ‘cause they don’ understand what those things mean. they’re barbarians, and it’s our job ta eradicate them from the world.”

Edge watched Red as he fell quiet. A sickening fear seeped into his soul, and he tugged his knees closer to his chest. Red appeared distant, as if lost in his thoughts, though fury was still written across his face. Edge didn’t speak, afraid of what might come out of his mouth. He could no longer quash the surge of fear that coursed through him. _I’m not ready for this,_ whispered a small, meek voice in his head. _I can’t do this. I’m so afraid. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I—_

“hey, bud, it’s alright. i’ve got ya.” Edge was almost startled by the sound of Red’s voice. He looked up with wide eyes, to find Red smiling at him faintly. “i’ll be there ta protect ya. always. ya got that? _always._ ” Edge allowed himself to be pulled against Red’s chest, his brother’s hands stroking over his spine. “be brave.”

Edge didn’t trust himself with words, so he clung to his brother urgently. He held back a whimper as Red pulled away briefly to reach for the knife Edge had left atop the bale of hay. He pressed it into Edge’s hands, holding him with a firm stare. “don’t lose it.”

Edge nodded before tucking the knife beneath the bundle of straw that served as his pillow, out of sight. He could almost sense the presence of the steel; it brought him comfort, knowing it was so close. Red smiled at him, tapping his knuckles to the top of Edge’s skull. “yer a warrior born, kid.”

Pride swelled within Edge, but he merely smiled in return. He rested his head against Red’s ribs, closing his eyes as the rain began again, filling the silence. Though doubt and trepidation still churned beneath the surface, being wrapped in his brother’s arms made it okay. _It’ll be alright,_ the small voice whispered. _Red will look after you. You have nothing to fear._

Edge looked up at his brother, whose eyes had fallen closed. Curiosity suddenly piqued, he asked, “How many have ya killed?”

Red blearily opened his eyes, brow bones lifting sleepily as he regarded Edge. “vamps?” He considered for a moment, then shrugged. “not really sure, ta tell ya the truth. twenty? more, probably.”

Edge gazed at his brother in reverence. Red was only five years older than Edge, yet one could easily take him for a grown-up monster. The scars that littered his bones seemed to age him. More than once, he’d been mistaken for Edge’s parent. His large arms enveloped Edge’s entire body, and though Edge was growing fast, Red was still a few inches taller than he was. Edge didn’t like feeling small. He didn’t like feeling inferior, or being patronised by his brother.

But for the moment, he allowed himself to be the little brother. He snuggled close to Red, absorbing the restful aura he projected. “How many do ya think I’ll be able ta kill?” he asked, anticipation suddenly unfurling in his chest.

Red chuckled drowsily. “who knows? hundreds, prob’ly.”

Edge grinned to himself. “And ye’ll be there?” he asked, looking at Red hopefully.

Red hummed, his eyes closed as he started to drift off. “’ll always be there,” he murmured. “always.”

Red soon fell asleep, but Edge remained awake for hours after. Though he couldn’t quite dispel his fear entirely, it was quickly pushed to the back of his mind, charged enthusiasm taking its place. _Red is going to take you hunting._ The thought alone thrilled Edge. For as long as he could recall, he’d envied his brother’s fighting prowess. The idea of joining him—while daunting—was more exciting than anything Edge could imagine.

Vampires. The word still chilled Edge to his core. A jolt went through him as a clap of thunder sounded outside. Huddling closer to Red, he took a deep breath. _It’ll be okay. Red will look after you. He’ll keep you safe._ Instinctually, Edge’s fingers curled around the silver blade beneath his straw bed. “Be brave,” he whispered to the night.


	2. Blood is thicker than silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge strikes a dangerous deal, and sets out on a perilous quest...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mildly graphic violence, derogatory language (in reference to sex workers), poisoning. (Please also note the work's general tags. A lot of them are relevant to this chapter.)

The sky was painted with purples, reds, and oranges, touching the tips of the distant mountains and casting a golden light over the landscape. Trees barren of leaves stood stiff in the gentle wind, birds chirping from their branches. All around, crumbling blocks of rubble were scattered; old buildings, castles, and fortresses of times past—reduced to nothing but ruin.

That was how this part of the countryside had received its name. The Ruins were desolate, save for a few scattered inns and town homes. The monsters that dwelled here were mostly outcasts, travellers, or those who would prefer not to be found.

Naturally, Edge fit right in. His palfrey carefully navigated the rocky pathway, avoiding the larger pieces of rubble. Edge had bought her from a Hotland merchant a mere two weeks ago (at less than a fair price, mind) and she had served him well thus far. Her hair was deep grey in colour, and Edge liked the way she blended into the surrounding foundations of long-forgotten towers. While he had no cause to raise suspicion, he’d prefer to remain inconspicuous. He was merely a traveller, in search of shelter for the night. At least, he was trying to pass as one.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, the crumbling architecture began to feel eerie. Strange shadows darted across the path as Edge rode past the trees, and the wind howled between the old turrets of the decaying castles. As the terrain became swathed in moonlight, the ruins glowed pale lavender. The darkness brought Edge no discomfort however—far from it in fact, he was rather fond of it. Still, he was grateful when he caught sight of the warm glow of civilisation ahead. He wasn’t sure the feeling of being watched could merely be boiled down to paranoia in these parts.

When Edge reached the inn, he glanced up at the swaying green sign that hung over the door to ensure he’d come to the right place. _The Silk River Inn,_ it read. A stable bunny hopped out to greet him, offering to tend to Edge’s horse. Thanking her, Edge dropped a piece of gold in the bunny’s palm, before pushing through the tavern doors. He was welcomed by the warm scent of broth, and the raucous laughter of drunken monsters.

He took a seat in a quiet corner, surveying the room. One of the barmaids wandered over to him, but he waved her away. As tempting as a flagon of ale sounded, Edge was here on business, and he needed to have his wits about him. Especially for this particular transaction.

He sat in wait for almost an hour before he was approached by the Froggit he’d been expecting. He immediately recognised it as one of Muffet’s lackeys; it was far too impeccably dressed to be from the Ruins. The spikes protruding from its shoulders, and the sheer bulk of it, gave Edge the impression that it might be trying to rise to the rank of Final Froggit—as so many Froggits dreamed of doing. No doubt Muffet had promised it as much in return for its services.

Regardless of its motivations, Edge knew better than to trust it. Muffet had always had a way of getting inside her loyalists’ minds (one way or another). As the Froggit sat across from him, Edge straightened, folding his hands on the table. “I assume you have what I requested?” Edge’s tone was level, but cautionary.

The Froggit ignored him in favour of clicking its fingers at one of the barmaids. “’ey sweetheart, how ‘bout some ale?” it croaked, staring down the bunny with an impatient tilt of its head. The maid quickly nodded, hurrying off and returning promptly with a flagon balanced on her tray. The Froggit took it without thanking her, before returning its attention to Edge. “Where’s that bro of yers?” it asked, taking a long swig. “Ain’t ‘e always followin’ ya around?”

Edge watched with bemusement as it wiped the foam from its lips, croaking. “We’re not here to discuss my brother,” he replied, tersely. “Do you have what I need or not?”

“Ya got the G?” the Froggit asked. While it appeared relaxed, Edge could feel the hint of fear in its involuntary projections.

Withdrawing a small pouch from his inventory, Edge nodded. “I have it.” The Froggit flicked its wrist, indicating for Edge to hand over the bag of gold. “Not until you show me that you have what I asked for,” Edge told it, coolly.

The Froggit made a growling noise in its throat, but reached into its inventory nonetheless, extracting a small glass vial. “’ere ya go—liquid silver, as requested.” It slid the vial across the table, and Edge lifted it to eye level, examining it carefully.

He was intimately familiar with the appearance of silver, so once he was satisfied he wasn’t being played for a fool, he stored the vial in his inventory, turning back to the Froggit with narrowed eye sockets. “And the other item I requested?”

“Hand over the G, an’ ye’ll have it.” The Froggit observed Edge with nonchalance, and Edge knew he would have little luck arguing. With a heavy sigh, he handed the small pouch over, tapping his fingers impatiently against the table as the Froggit counted each individual piece of gold. Once it had stored the pouch safely in its inventory, it gave Edge a consolatory grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, th’ Spider wants more than just G as payment fer the extra piece a’ the bargain.”

It suddenly struck Edge that perhaps he shouldn’t have handed over the gold so easily. Gritting his teeth, he growled, “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

The Froggit shrugged indifferently. “’s not up ta me. Boss’s orders. ‘s just business, sweetheart.” There was no sympathy in the Froggit’s bulbous eyes as it watched Edge from across the table, though Edge could tell it was growing anxious. He was well aware of his reputation as a rather unforgiving monster; it was times like these that he was thankful for that reputation.

Still, he didn’t want to cause a scene, and he knew it was unlikely he’d win this argument without incurring Muffet’s wrath. “What does she want?” he asked, in grudging concession.

The Froggit’s wide mouth turned up at the corners, and it leaned back in its seat, some of the tension leaving its shoulders. “I think ya know what she wants.” Its eyes raked over the length of Edge’s body, and he flushed hotly.

“I don’t do that kind of work for her,” he said quickly. “She knows that.”

Chuckling throatily, the Froggit shook its head. “Not that kinda payment, sweetheart. Just… a favour. Fer later. No biggy.” Edge swallowed, brow bones furrowing. He was not inclined to leave himself in Muffet’s debt. Her requests seldom involved honest work, and Edge had no intention of being thrown into a cell for her sake.

But he _needed_ this deal to fall through. He couldn’t leave this place without the items he’d come for. Relinquishing, he clenched his jaw. “Fine. Deal.” He leaned across the table, and the Froggit flinched as Edge allowed magic to channel into his gaze, eye-lights flashing. “But you can tell her I’ll be expecting at least half of that gold back next time I see her—as compensation for going back on our deal.”

The Froggit scoffed, folding its arms with a dubious look. “Or what?” Despite its tough façade, Edge could tell that it was apprehensive.

Calmly, Edge rose from his seat, walking slowly to stand behind the Froggit. Curling his fingers over the wooden arms of its chair, he leaned down. “The collar? If it pleases you.”

He could almost smell the fear coming off the Froggit as it shakily reached into its inventory, extracting a sleek, silver-studded collar. The magic channelled into it was tangible against the tips of Edge’s fingers. This type of item was a rarity; he was almost impressed that Muffet had managed to loot one up. No doubt the favour she’d ask of him would be proportional to its worth, he thought bitterly.

Edge remained where he was for a moment, satisfied to let the Froggit wallow in his harsh projections. Turning its head to the side, but (perhaps deliberately) not meeting Edge’s gaze, the Froggit muttered, “If that’s all, then—”

“We’re not quite finished here,” Edge said evenly, though his voice betrayed a hint of irritation. He knew he’d been played. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He placed a hand on the Froggit’s slippery shoulder, digging his fingers into its soft flesh. It hissed, but remained painstakingly still beneath his grip. Leaning close, so as not to rouse too much suspicion from the tavern’s other inhabitants, Edge dropped his voice to a whisper. “Muffet can have her bloody favour, but I do not like to be trifled with. Be so kind as to remind her of that.”

Tightening his grip, Edge allowed magic to flow through his palm, a sharp construct of bone forming directly inside the Froggit’s flesh. There was a hideous crunching sound, and the Froggit released a harsh shriek as the magic spewed from its shoulder. Edge pressed a hand over its mouth, muffling its croaks of agony as the sharp attack sunk deeper into its flesh, cutting right through its arm. Inky green magic oozed from its wound, and it writhed beneath Edge’s grip. “Oh, relax,” Edge muttered, dispelling the magical attack. The Froggit whimpered as Edge released it, though it had only lost a few points of HP. In the midst of its desperate struggles, the Froggit had unintentionally released a few items from its inventory—Edge’s sack of gold included. He crouched to where it had fallen to the floor, gathering up the spilled coins.

Panting heavily, the Froggit tried to stanch the wound as magic leaked onto the wooden floor, staining it green. A quick glance around the room told Edge that no one seemed to have noticed the small commotion, the Froggit’s strangled sobs swallowed by the bawdy shouts filling the tavern. Placing a single gold coin on the table before the Froggit, Edge bent to murmur, “Be sure to deliver this to Muffet. For her trouble.” He watched for a pause as it whimpered, then sighed, dropping three more coins in front of it. “Or, do yourself a favour, and book passage across the Golden Sea. That should be enough to get you there.”

The Froggit stared up at Edge, agony written across its face. Edge scowled in contempt, before turning, leaving the groaning creature in a slowly gathering pool of its own magic. It would survive, Edge thought. And if it didn’t—well, it certainly sent a message to Muffet.

Either way, Edge didn’t have time to linger on the Froggit. He had other business to attend to.

 

****

 

_not everyone thinks the way we do, bro. some monsters just don’ get it…_

 

The aroma of perfumes and magic hit Edge the moment he reached the top of the stairs. Many taverns doubled as brothels, though (thankfully) the two businesses were often kept separate. A tall monster with colourful feathers hurried over as Edge entered the room, their smile sickly sweet as they greeted him. “Good evening, sir. How might we assist you tonight? Were you looking for a larger girl? Or perhaps you’d prefer someone with scales?”

“Are you the Keeper of this establishment?” Edge asked, curtly. While his meeting with the Froggit hadn’t really been anything out of the ordinary (not for a place like this, in any case), the task at hand was a lot more sensitive, and required no small degree of stealth.

“I am,” the creature said, brightly, their feathers fluttering.

Edge nodded. “Good. I’m looking for a boy. He goes by Cinnamon, I believe.”

Realisation flickered across the Keeper’s face. “Ah. Of course. I’ll have him prepared for you.”

Edge waved his hand dismissively. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll see him as he is.”

The Keeper seemed momentarily conflicted, but quickly nodded, their smile returning. “Certainly. If you’ll follow me…”

They guided Edge towards the back of the room, weaving between the embroidered cushions set on the floor, and the burning plates of incense. Edge did his best to avoid the sultry stares of the establishment’s other occupants. He was grateful when they left the room, emerging onto a corridor with breathable air. He followed the monster until they came to a stop at a purple door, embellished with a golden _C._ The Keeper cast Edge a weak smile over their shoulder, before slowly pushing the door open. “Cinnamon, darling, there’s someone here to see you.”

 

_… some monsters find vampires exhiliratin’. they get a kick out a’ whorin’ themselves out ta them…_

 

As they entered the room, Edge’s senses were assaulted by the sweet scent of sugar… and magic. The latter was heavy in the air—unnaturally so. A bunny monster stood in front of a mirror in the far corner of the room, and turned as they entered. “Oh, goodness!” he squeaked, eyes widening. “I wasn’t expecting company so soon, if you’d just give a minute to—”

“You needn’t worry,” Edge said, blandly. Cinnamon fell silent, looking anxiously between Edge and the other monster. “I merely wish to speak with you. About one of your clients.”

The Keeper looked up at Edge, hastily shaking their head. “Oh, I’m afraid we cannot disclose any information involving our other clients. Confidentiality is—”

“I’m aware of your policies,” Edge interrupted, shortly. “I am also aware that you allowed a vampire onto your premises without alerting the Royal Guard. That is a treasonous offence, is it not?”

The Keeper fell silent, freezing in place. Edge caught a glimpse of Cinnamon hopping uncomfortably from foot to foot, his bright eyes darting away from Edge. “So I thought,” Edge said. “I would be inclined not to report you to the Royal Guard, should you allow me to speak with this whore.” Edge half-spat the word, a sour taste in his mouth.

 

_… feedin’ vampires willingly is one a’ the foulest things a monster can do. givin’ yer magic away to a vile parasite…_

 

Cinnamon visibly flinched, frantically trying to meet the Keeper’s gaze. But the Keeper paid him no heed, swallowing, before offering Edge a pleasant smile. “Of course. Take all the time you need.” With an anxious glance in Cinnamon’s direction, the Keeper took their leave, sweeping from the room in a flutter of feathers and shutting the door behind them.

Silence ticked, and Cinnamon watched Edge apprehensively. Surveying the whore, Edge narrowed his sockets. Though Cinnamon was clearly trying to angle himself to hide it, the bite wound on his neck stood out conspicuously; two small punctures—they looked fresh.

 

_… sometimes ye’ve got ta be careful though. monsters don’ always know they’re doin’ it. vampire venom messes with yer mind…_

 

Slowly, Edge approached the bunny, reaching out a hand to cup his face. Cinnamon trembled, but seemed too frightened to try and pull away as Edge tilted his head, examining the marks at his neck. “Did it hurt you?” Edge asked, quietly.

Cinnamon looked up at him, and blinked. “W-What?”

“The vampire,” Edge said, brusquely, “did it try to drain you?”

“It… no.” Cinnamon appeared confused. “He paid for my services, and… and I allowed him to…” He squeezed his large eyes shut, turning his head away from Edge’s perilous stare. “And then he left.”

Edge released the bunny as if he’d been singed, disgusted. “You allowed it to feed from you— _willingly_?” Cinnamon’s nose twitched, and he nodded, his ears folding protectively. A flicker of rage ignited in Edge’s chest, but he pushed it down, taking a long breath. “Why on earth would you—” He broke off, swallowing thickly. “It’s not important. Where was it headed?”

“I d-don’t know,” Cinnamon admitted, his voice shrinking as he cowered away from Edge. “West? I-I think. He mentioned… the docks.”

 _The docks?_ That wasn’t good. If the vampire managed to cross the Golden Sea, Edge would likely lose its trail. “How many days’ ride is it to the docks?” he asked thickly.

“Two? Maybe three?” Cinnamon quivered as Edge released a stiff sigh, knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. “P-please, I didn’t—I was only—”

“Are there any more inns between here and there?”

Cinnamon stared at Edge, his ears pressed flat against his head. “J-just one. It’s called the R-Red Seal…”

Briskly, Edge turned for the door. He could feel his magic flaring, and he willed himself to suppress it. _Save your strength,_ he reminded himself. _You’ll be needing it soon._

 

_… most a’ the time though, they’re just filthy whores with a twisted love fer those leeches…_

 

“W-wait!”

Fury flickering briefly, Edge spun. “I don’t have any more time to waste on you,” he growled.

“I—” Cinnamon wrapped his arms around himself, but met Edge’s stare. “The v-vampire—he was kind. He didn’t hurt me. Y-you don’t have to—”

Cinnamon flinched as Edge strode forward, then yelped as Edge curled a hand around the front of his robe. “You should be thankful I’m sparing your life, _whore_ ,” Edge spat. “You’re vile. You’re utter scum. Spreading your legs for some vampire like you’re—”

Cinnamon sobbed, and guilt struck Edge just as suddenly as his rage had. Releasing the bunny, he sighed, turning away. “Don’t—don’t fall for the charms of a vampire,” he muttered. “They’re savages, and it’s our job to eradicate them from our world.” Without another glance in the quivering bunny’s direction, Edge left, Red’s voice still ringing in his head.

 

****

 

Edge reached the Red Seal before sunrise, the first light of the day touching the tips of the mountains ahead. His mare gave a soft whinny as he guided her to the stables himself, the stable boy having gone to bed for the night. Unsaddling her, Edge fed her a few of the apples he’d been meaning to store for later. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, running his hand over her neck. “You did well. Get some rest now.”

Sighing wearily, he glanced around. The edge of the Ruins near the sea was far lusher than most of the countryside. The grass grew greener, and yellow flowers dotted the small hills. Distantly, Edge could hear the sound of waves crashing against rocks. It was still at least a days’ ride to the docks, so Edge was almost certain the vampire must have taken shelter here for the day. Which meant he had until nightfall to locate it, lest he lose the trail.

With a final appreciative pat of his mare’s neck, Edge made his way inside. Unlike the previous inn, this place smelt a lot mustier—likely a result of a long night. A few final stragglers were still heading upstairs to bed—and a few were heading down for breakfast. A sleepy looking Whimsun sidled over to Edge, a broom in its hand. “Can I help you?” it mumbled, its gaze fixed on the grimy floorboards.

“Accommodation for one, if you have room to spare.” Edge cast a cautious glance around the emptying tavern, as if he might catch sight of the vampire right here and now. But sunlight was already filtering in through the dusty windows, so he knew it was a long shot.

“Of course,” the Whimsun mumbled, eyes still averted. Edge followed it to the bar, where it ducked down to fish through the clutter of dishes and musty glasses. It emerged holding a box, which contained several numbered keys. Handing Edge the one labelled ‘37’, it said, “Last door on the left. Thank you for staying with us.” Its voice was meek, and it trailed off on the last few words.

“Thank you,” Edge said, nodding politely, and the Whimsun looked away. With one last cursory skim of the room, Edge made his way upstairs.

His room had a strange scent—a mingle of lavender and mothballs. The bed looked old and worn, and the curtains draped over the windows were full of tattered holes. Still, it was certainly better than nothing. In his exhaustion, Edge doubted he’d have been able to tell the difference between this bed, and the King’s royal chambers. Collapsing onto the sheets, Edge didn’t bother kicking off his shoes before closing his eyes, allowing sleep to take him.

 

Edge awoke abruptly, sitting up sharply, then wincing as his neck cricked in response to the sudden movement. He squinted against the rays of sunlight streaming in through his half-drawn curtains. A brief flicker of panic ignited in his chest. _Sunset already?_ He’d slept the entire day.

That gave him almost no time to prepare for the evening ahead of him. Scrambling to his feet, Edge quickly dug through his inventory to make sure his essentials were still there. The collar and vial were both safely tucked away, and he exhaled, relieved. The still-present sunlight meant that the vampire couldn’t have left yet, at least. But time was quickly running out.

Edge withdrew his silver dagger from his inventory, examining it for a moment. It glinted as he turned it over in his palm.

 

_don’t lose it._

He stored it in the small hilt at his hip, where it was more easily accessible. Then, taking a deep breath, he drew the vial of liquid silver from his inventory. The contents slipped cleanly over the glass, shimmering in the setting sun. Unscrewing the cap, Edge regarded the silver with a frown. Well. This was an essential part of the plan. Unfortunately.

Holding his breath, he tipped the liquid into his mouth, swallowing stiffly against it. He gagged on the foul taste, and fought down the retching coughs that would certainly cause him to regurgitate the silver. It burned his throat and chest, and his soul twisted in protest. He knew it wouldn’t kill him, but the silver now coursed through him along with his magic, leaving his bones feeling heavy and stiff. He grimaced as he pushed open his bedroom door, locking it before heading downstairs.

The inn’s tavern was already filling, monsters gathering for their nightly merry-making. After scouring the room briefly, Edge took a seat at the bar. The sunlight had faded, Whimsuns hurrying frantically around the room and lighting the braziers and candelabras. A few monsters dropped into the seats beside Edge, but he went ignored for the most part, much to his relief.

As darkness fell outside, Edge began to grow apprehensive. Every time a monster emerged from the floor above, or through the front door, his eyes would dart in their direction to examine them. But each time, he was met with disappointment. While he had not yet encountered the vampire he’d been tracking, he’d been around them long enough to know one when he saw one.

The night wore on, and the tavern grew louder, laughter ringing in Edge’s skull. He pressed two fingers to his temples, willing his head to stop pounding. The silver still ached in his bones, and his hope was beginning to dwindle. What if he’d missed the vampire entirely, and it had escaped without him noticing? Or what if it had never been here in the first place? Had Edge miscalculated how quickly it could travel?

A Whimsun wandered over to him from behind the bar, its eyes flicking nervously away from Edge when he looked up. “W-would you like anything?” it asked, softly.

Sighing, Edge shrugged. “Sure. Some ale would be nice.” He figured, if he was going to feel like a failure, he may as well do it while intoxicated. He sipped his drink as the Whimsun flitted away, but it tasted sour in his mouth. Part of him wondered if the silver had tainted his ability to taste.

“drinking alone?”

Edge blinked, turning as he realised the question had been addressed to him. He vaguely registered the monster seated beside him; it was a skeleton monster. Though a rarity, his worn clothes, slack demeanour, and poor posture did little to capture Edge’s interest. “I am,” he replied, looking away with a stiff huff of breath. “And I would like to continue to do so.”

The other monster laughed softly. “so i see. forgive me.” Returning to his own drink, the monster fell silent.

Edge slumped with relief. The last thing he needed was to be distracted. He surveyed the room dully, though in truth, he was ready to give up his futile search. Despite having slept all day, he felt tired; weary from travel and lack of proper rest. He took a long gulp of ale, shuddering at the taste. He certainly wasn’t going to be consuming silver again.

“so, where are you from?”

Edge clenched his teeth as the stranger spoke again. He looked up, irritated. “Listen, I’m really not—”

 

_first rule about huntin’ vampires, bro—it could be anyone._

 

“not… what?” The monster smiled at Edge, its sharp teeth flashing.

Edge’s soul stilled. Inadvertently, his hand drifted to his hip, grazing the dagger concealed in his pocket. His fingers trembled, and he curled them into a fist to keep himself composed. He realised he was gaping, and quickly closed his mouth, swallowing and forcing a wavering smile. “East—I… I’m from—a l-little further east.” Edge’s breaths were shallow. _Stay calm,_ he commanded himself. _Don’t give yourself away._ “What about you?” he asked, quickly.

The vampire—for there was no mistaking it now; curved fangs, unconcealed by lips, smooth features, untarnished by physical damage, and golden eyes, tinted ever so slightly with red—grinned. “oh, i’m from the west—the far west. i have plans to return home soon, but…” its gaze scanned the length of Edge’s body, and a conjured tongue slid over its teeth. “well, the company this side of the golden sea is ever so pleasant. i might have to stay a little longer.”

Edge could feel his soul pounding—it was a small wonder no one could hear it. His smile faltered, and he nodded weakly. “Well, that certainly sounds i-interesting.”

 

_rule number two—they’ll be able ta tell if yer scared. don’t let ‘em know. if they sense weakness, they’ll strike._

Shaking his head, Edge widened his smile. “What brought you here?” he asked, clearing his throat and injecting a little more conviction into his tone.

The vampire’s eyes almost sparkled with excitement, and Edge had to fight every instinct in his body as it leaned in to whisper, “adventure.”

The vampire was uncomfortably close, and Edge swallowed back his revulsion. Vampires had a very distinct smell—or rather, a lack thereof. While most monsters tended to carry the scent of their magic, vampires did not have any true magic—aside from that which they stole and stored in their empty souls. It sent a shiver down Edge’s spine, the dead, dry feeling hanging in the air.

“you don’t seem entirely unfamiliar with the concept yourself,” the vampire said.

Edge blinked. “I—w-what?”

“well—you’re a knight, aren’t you?” The vampire glanced over Edge, head tilted. “that’s why you wear armour, isn’t it? to protect you on all your adventures.”

“I—I’m not a knight.” Edge cursed his ineloquence. His entire body was on high alert, every sense poised for a fight. Yet speech seemed beyond him, his conscious flooded with fear.

The vampire’s smile was easy however, betraying no sense of suspicion. “ah. well. you certainly look one, if you don’t mind me saying.” Once again, the vampire’s eyes darted over Edge in a way that made his bones crawl. _It wants to sleep with me,_ he realised, in sudden horror.

_third rule—do whatever it takes ta get ‘em ta let their guard down._

 

Well. While this had certainly not been part of the plan, it did make things a little less complicated. Still, Edge wasn’t sure how to approach this. The mere idea of _touching_ this creature made his soul churn. Fortunately, the vampire seemed unaware of Edge’s utter aversion to it, because it leaned in a little, resting its fingertips on Edge’s ulna. “well, i hope i’m not being too forward, but you’re rather an attractive knight.” Mischief glinted in the vampire’s eye, and Edge frowned a little, certain it had mistitled him deliberately.

But a majority of his resolve was being channelled into not flinching away from the vampire’s touch, so he simply nodded, no longer able to force himself to smile. “Well. Thank you.” The words sounded stiff, but the vampire seemed not to notice or care, leaning ever closer, until Edge felt as if he might be sick.

“perhaps—if you should wish it, of course—i could offer you some company for the night. knight.” The vampire pressed its teeth together, hiding its laughter.

Edge could only smile faintly; he hardly had the mind to register the pun. “O-of course. That sounds… agreeable.”

Sliding off its stool, the vampire grinned, taking Edge by the arm. “wonderful. i confess, you’re the first knight i’ve met in a while, so you’ll have to forgive me for being uneducated on the correct way to address you—would you like me to call you sir?”

“That’s… not necessary,” Edge said, too tense to protest that he was _not_ in fact a knight. In addition, the vampire’s sultry tone was making his head spin queasily. “I—my room’s upstairs.”

“perfect,” the vampire purred, its teeth far closer to Edge’s cervical vertebrae than he would have liked. He followed it across the room, trying to shake the feeling that every eye was fixed on him. The vampire moved with grace, barely brushing the other patrons, despite the clamour of the tavern. Occasionally, it would glance over its shoulder to smile at Edge. With no small amount of nausea in his chest, Edge would force himself to smile back.

Edge fumbled with his key, struggling to fit it into the lock when they reached his room. The vampire trailed its fingers over Edge’s arm; they were cold, and a chill trickled down Edge’s spine. When they were both inside, Edge hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. The last thing he wanted to do was lock himself in a room alone with a vampire.

 

_isolate yerself from other monsters if ya can—try to avoid casualties._

Breathing deeply, Edge shut the door, turning to face the vampire. It was seated at the foot of his bed, watching him closely. Its eyes seemed to glow amber in the dull light, the red tainting its natural gold. Pushing back against his revulsion, Edge sat beside it. He flinched as it leaned close. Its presence felt cold and empty—dead. It cupped his face, touch light and gentle as it smiled. Edge stiffened as it pressed its teeth pressed to his jaw. “you know what i am, don’t you?” it whispered.

Edge went cold, tensing where he sat. _No. How had he given himself away so easily?_ The vampire withdrew, but its smile betrayed no hint of alarm or fury. “it’s alright,” it said, softly. It gazed at him, trailing a finger over his jaw, and settling on his neck. “is it your first time?”

Realisation struck Edge like a knife to the soul. He stared at the vampire, bewildered. It wanted to—

 

_let me tell ya a little secret, bro—somethin’ that vamps don’ want us ta know…_

 

He swallowed thickly, and nodded. “It’s—yes. It’s my first time.” His breaths quickened, his soul pulsing with fright.

The vampire regarded him, an odd tenderness in its eyes. “don’t worry,” it murmured, shifting close and pressing its teeth to Edge’s vertebrae. “i’ll be gentle.”

 

_… they’re at their most vulnerable when they’re feedin’…_

Edge clenched his teeth against a strained yelp as the vampire sunk its teeth into his bones with a sharp _crack._ Pain flooded his senses, but he gritted his teeth against it. He watched the vampire as it fed, and soon, as anticipated…

 

_it’s the only time they have ta summon their souls._

The organ appeared just outside the vampire’s chest. It was dull in colour—almost translucent, though remnants of magic still swirled within it. Edge’s fingers twitched instinctively to the knife at his hip. All he needed to do was draw it, reach out and—

 _No. That isn’t part of the plan,_ he reminded himself. The vampire sighed softly as Edge’s magic began to flood its soul. Bright, and deep red in colour, the substance flowed into the lifeless organ. Edge felt sick. His neck ached where the vampire’s fangs were still latched.

 

_but the golden rule, kid—never use yerself as bait. if ya give a vamp an opportunity ta sink its fangs inta ya… ya may as well tell it yer favourite object so it has somewhere ta scatter yer dust once it’s done with ya._

Well. Edge had certainly fucked up in that department. He could only pray that it would pay off…

Suddenly, the vampire stilled against him. He could feel its hands shaking where they held his shoulders, before it coughed, pulling away sharply. Its soul quickly disappeared back into its chest—but not before Edge caught a glimpse of silver swirling among the mix of his magic. He smiled to himself, overcome with relief.

The vampire looked up at him as it crumpled to its knees, its features stricken with horror. Magic trickled from its mouth; the sight left a foul pit in Edge’s soul, and he sneered down at it in disgust. “you—you’re—gah…” The vampire choked on its words, gasping for air as it collapsed onto its side.

“I told you I wasn’t a knight, didn’t I?” Edge felt calm, the tension easing from his body now that he had the upper hand. He practically swelled with pride. It had _worked._

The vampire coughed out a harsh laugh, even as it clawed at the floorboards in agony. “so you’re—a hunter,” it rasped, groaning. When Edge didn’t respond, it laughed again, though it sounded more like a gagged whimper this time. “so, silver poisoning? hah—bit of a fucked up way to—ngh—kill me, don’t you think?” Magic spilled from the vampire’s mouth as it retched, its body fighting uselessly against the afflicting silver in its soul.

Edge crouched beside it, scowling in distaste as he examined it. Despite the tormented chokes of pain it was releasing, it was grinning. The sight sickened Edge to his core. He reached into his inventory for the collar, and biting back a grimace, clipped it around the vampire’s neck. “Oh, you won’t be dying today,” he assured it, as its head dropped to the floor, the silver of the collar draining what little strength it had remaining. “You’ll be coming with me to the Capital—you’re my gift to the King.”


	3. Burnt Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge experiences difficulty keeping the vampire intact, and his morals begin to battle his ideals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: after-effects of poisoning (mild), eye trauma, mild body horror, description of blood (magic), mention of forced prostitution (brief and fairly mild).

_sunlight won’t kill ‘em… directly. it’s uncomfortable fer ‘em though. enough exposure will leave ‘em completely docile. use that weakness against ‘em._

The day was bright and warm, the sun shining down from the cornflower blue sky in full force. It was around noon, and birds sung their melodies from the wilting trees. The wind blew east, carrying the smell of the sea with it, and leaving the air pleasantly cool. Edge basked in the sun’s rays, welcoming their warmth on his tired bones.

The same could not be said for his captive. Though unconscious, the vampire was groaning softly in its sleep. Sweat beaded on its skull, pale veins of magic dotted its bones, and its breaths were short and ragged. Edge had grown accustomed to its sounds of discomfort however, and was content to ignore it as they rode through the wasteland of the Ruins.

They had yet to pass any other travellers, but Edge remained wary. He wasn’t eager to explain why he had an unconscious vampire slumped over the front of his horse, and the Ruins didn’t exactly provide much cover, should the need to hide arise. But travellers were scarce in these parts, so an encounter was unlikely.

They had passed the Silk River Inn earlier this morning, having made most of the journey the previous night. Edge knew they would have to stop soon. As much as he’d rather continue on until they reached the cover of Snowdin Forest, he knew neither he nor his mare were equipped for that journey. Already, his supplies were low. With a glance at the contents of his water skin, he grimaced. There were barely a few drops left. Though he didn’t require as much water as fleshy monsters, thirst left his magic sparse and weak. And given his cargo, Edge would prefer to have his senses about him.

He glanced at the vampire, examining its face properly for the first time. He could see now why he’d failed to identify it initially (though the fact still ate at his mind). Many vampires he’d encountered were often a lot less… well fed. Edge shuddered at the thought of what this particular vampire must have done to achieve such a level of nourishment. Its eyes had been more golden than red, and it bore no visible scars. It also had an unsettlingly calm demeanour. In Edge’s experience, vampires were normally deceived by their complete inability to restrain their appetites.

Though the wounds at Edge’s neck were small, and quickly healing, the knowledge of them still left his bones prickling with revulsion. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods that he hadn’t brought about his own death by allowing a vampire to feed from him. He knew what little magic the vampire had taken from him was likely still contained within its soul along with the meagre drop of silver. The thought made him feel nauseous, and he quickly pushed it aside.

As they passed through a dip in the mountainous terrain, the air grew cooler, and the flora lusher. Edge could still smell the dew dripping from the branches of the blossoming silver trees. The further downward they rode, the more alive the landscape grew. Flowers bloomed between the cracks of fallen towers, vines crawled up the turrets of old castles, and fallen poppies crunched beneath the hooves of Edge’s mare.

The Valley of Silk was striking in contrast to the rest of the Ruins. Though rubble still scattered the lush grass, life thrived here. Seeing the smooth silvery bark on the trees, and the pleasant glow of the pale flowers, was like a breath of fresh air for Edge. Everything here grew soft and delicate, life flourishing around the cool waters of the Silk River.

Though it was tranquil, Edge would have preferred to avoid the Valley. While the Ruins were vast and largely uninhabited, the Valley was often patrolled by scavengers in search of food and trespassers. Scavengers who were unlikely to meet Edge with kindness—particularly if they took an interest in his ‘cargo’.

But alas, avoiding the Valley would add at least another day to his journey—a day that Edge didn’t have to spare. And they would have to rest soon; Edge could tell that his mare was growing weary, her steps slowing by the minute.

As they neared the depths of the Valley, the sound of trickling water permeated through the cluster of trees to their right. Edge was suddenly reminded of how dry his magic was starting to feel. He glanced at the vampire. The trees that shrouded the Valley provided a little cover from the sunlight, but the creature still looked pained, its brows furrowed in its sleep. Trickles of red had begun to form at its sockets.

Edge frowned, pondering on whether or not he’d given the creature too much silver. While he cared little for the vampire’s comfort… he did need it alive. He wasn’t entirely sure of the extent to which sunlight could harm it, but he wasn’t inclined to take any unnecessary risks.

He brought his mare to a halt, climbing down and feeding her a few carrots from his inventory. She needed a break, and the river was near. He took her reins in hand, and guided her beneath the canopy of the silver-leafed trees, towards the welcoming sound of running water. When they reached the stream, the mare immediately ducked her head and began to drink. Edge stroked her neck gently, before crouching beside her. He filled his water skin, taking a long drink. The cool liquid channelled through his bones, his magic glowing in response to the refreshment.

Sunlight sparkled off the flowing river, and glanced off the pale trees, illuminating the forest. Edge closed his eyes for a moment, sitting on the damp ground and breathing in the cool air. After almost a week of hard riding and anxious pursuit of his quarry, he could have slept for just as long. The forest was quiet, but for the rustling of leaves and steady trickle of water. Truthfully, Edge wouldn’t mind dozing for a few minutes…

“don’t suppose you’d be willing to offer me a drink, too?”

Edge’s eyes snapped open suddenly, as if he’d been struck across the face. He turned, his soul lurching at the sight of the vampire’s golden eyes, surveying him with amusement. The creature was still slumped across the horse, thankfully, but it was now very much awake. Grimacing, Edge clambered to his feet, brushing the detritus from his clothes. He made a point of ignoring the vampire as it watched him, but took great pleasure in its surprised yelp as he shoved it from the back of his horse. It fell to the ground with a _thud_ , wincing and rubbing its arm. “ah, well. i suppose you already did,” it said with a wink in Edge’s direction, though its grin was tainted by a grimace of pain.

Edge stiffened, pressing his teeth into a hard line. After pausing briefly, he inhaled deeply, and began rummaging through his inventory until he found his silver knife. The vampire lifted a brow as Edge held the knife before him in warning. “I’d rather not have to use this,” he uttered, voice low. “But I will, if I must.”

To Edge’s dismay, the vampire seemed unfazed by the threat. It slowly climbed to its feet, its limbs shaking a little. Edge couldn’t be certain if it was the sunlight, or the lingering effects of the silver poisoning, but it looked a little sickly. Yet for all its misfortunes, it appeared smug. “i don’t think you will,” it said, cocking its head. “you said you needed me alive.” It held Edge’s gaze, its golden eyes challenging.

With a frustrated huff, Edge sheathed the knife. Despite the blaring sunlight streaming through the trees, and the silver collar around the vampire’s neck, Edge couldn’t help but feel at a disadvantage. The vampire’s grin was easy, its small fangs glistening under the strange silver light of the forest. Sighing contentedly, it dropped to the ground beside Edge’s mare, running its fingers through the foliage scattered over the forest floor. “i suppose i should thank you, really, for finally getting us out of the wretched sunlight.” It glanced up at Edge, eyes questioning. “i’m not wrong in assuming you did it for my sake, am i?”

“Your comfort matters little to me,” Edge muttered, tartly.

Leaning back against the trunk of a tall silver birch, the vampire closed its eyes, humming. “that’s funny. the taste of your magic on my tongue says otherwise.”

Rage flared within Edge. Marching forward, he yanked the vampire to its feet by the collar. It hissed softly, but didn’t struggle, even as Edge drew his knife and pressed the tip to its neck. “Make no mistake, _vampire,_ your life—while necessary, for now—is expendable. Should you continue to antagonise me, I will not hesitate to _replace_ you. Your kind are far too abundant as it is. It will bring me great pleasure to put an end to one of you.” Edge allowed his magic to flare dangerously, red sparking in his perilous gaze.

The vampire cocked its head, raising a brow bone quizzically. “my kind are abundant? is that why you came all the way to the ruins—the farthest place from the capital this side of the golden sea—to capture me?” It hummed thoughtfully, smirking as Edge’s face fell. “my life is more precious to you than a sack of silver.”

Edge’s fingers twitched around the knife, and he pressed it a little deeper between the vampire’s vertebrae. The vampire didn’t release his gaze, its eyes flashing dangerously, as if it were trying to provoke him into lashing out. Growling, Edge pulled away, shoving his knife back in its sheath. Rage coursed through him, tainting his magic with a barely-restrained heat. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the vampire, returning to his mare. “We need to keep moving,” he said stiffly.

“back into the sunlight?” The vampire grimaced, dropping back to the ground with its arms folded. “eh, no thanks.”

Edge stilled, pinching his nasal bridge between two fingers. “The longer we remain in one place, the more chance we have of being discovered. And I can almost guarantee that any scavengers we run into will a be a lot less forgiving than I am.” Edge glanced around nervously. It was past midday now, meaning that patrols would be at their peak.

But the vampire remained inert, closing its eyes and leaning back against the tree trunk. “let them. i’m in no mood for a trip to the capital.”

Edge ground his teeth together, frustration mounting. “You’ll be in for more than just a trip to the Capital if they find us,” he warned. When the vampire continued to ignore him, he crouched in front of it, curling his fingers around its collar. It cracked open a socket, regarding him dully. “Do you have any idea how much a vampire is worth in these parts? You’ll be sold to the highest bidder, and the highest bidder is unlikely to have savoury uses for you.”

“isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” the vampire questioned, though doubt had slipped into its expression. “the king is the highest bidder of them all, isn’t he?”

“That’s not—” Edge grunted. With a restrained sigh, he released the collar, the vampire dropping back to the ground. “I—I need you alive. And preferably in presentable condition.”

The vampire lifted a brow bone, though its smile was weak. “so that you can squeeze as much gold out of the king’s pocket as you can when it comes to selling me?”

Edge inhaled sharply, closing his sockets. “I’m not—” He was broken off by the sound of a horn calling. He spun, scanning the trees as the ground trembled with the weight of thundering hooves approaching. Though he couldn’t see the monsters yet, he could hear their shouts. Turning to the vampire, he quickly asked, “How long can you hold your breath?”

Blinking, the vampire rose to its feet. “what…?”

“Get under the water and don’t come up until I say so,” Edge said. The vampire appeared bewildered, staring at Edge in confusion.

“you want me to… hold my breath underwater?”

“I want you to say out of sight,” Edge hissed. The sound of hooves was growing louder, branches and twigs cracking in the trees around them as the horn called again. “Don’t let them see you. Stay underwater. You don’t need to breathe, do you?”

The vampire shook its head, and Edge grasped its collar, dragging it towards the riverbank. It stumbled after him, but hesitated when it reached the water. “i—do i really have to—?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Edge snapped, shoving it towards the water. Behind him, he heard another shout, closer this time, and his soul began to race. “Stay _hidden._ Unless you want to become some brothel keeper’s favourite slut.”

Visible shock crossed the vampire’s face, its smug smile diminishing. Stumbling a little, it hurriedly waded into the river, diving beneath the water just as the branches around them parted, making way for a small group of Loox on horseback. Edge didn’t dare allow his gaze to drift to the water, keeping it firmly fixed on the mounted patrollers. One of them trotted forward to stand before Edge, his horse tall and black—a stark contrast to the pale flora of the forest. “State your name and business, traveller,” he demanded, gruffly.

“Edge. I’m returning home, and I ask your permission to pass through the Valley unharmed.” Edge watched stiffly as the Loox circled him, examining his mare. Her ears flicked, and her silver tail swished in the cool wind, but otherwise, she remained still. Edge tried not to flinch as the Loox’ large eye wandered to the rippling water of the Silk River.

“What prompted your visit to the Ruins?” the Loox asked, looking back at Edge. Edge could feel the gazes of the other riders on his back, but he remained poised.

“Family,” he said, carefully. The Loox surveyed him, his eye darting to the sheath at Edge’s hip.

“Dangerous family?” The Loox’ large eye widened in question.

Edge’s fingers drifted to the knife, and he heard a few unsettled grunts behind him. But the Loox’ leader held up his hand, halting his companions. “Merely a precaution,” Edge assured him, with a strained smile.

Glancing over him slowly, the Loox finally nodded, though the suspicion didn’t leave his expression. “Make sure you’re out of the forest before sundown,” he said. “The night patrol isn’t quite as friendly as we are.” He frowned, gazing over Edge, calculating. “I’d suggest you seek refuge at the Caretaker’s Inn.”

Edge nodded, curtly. “I appreciate the advice.”

“Heed it,” the Loox said. “The Valley of Silk does not always take so kindly to strangers.”

Edge kept a watchful eye on the Loox as he turned away, leading his patrol back into the cover of the silken trees. The moment the sound of their hooves had faded, Edge hurried to the riverside, peering beneath the sparkling water. The depths were slightly murky with silt, but he could see the riverbed. There was no sign of the vampire.

Cursing beneath his breath, Edge hurried along the bank and glanced down the stream. The waters ran smoothly, and there was no sign of life (or death) on either of its banks, as far as Edge could see. He berated himself internally for being so naïve. He should have been able to foresee this. Of course the vampire would capitalise on the escape opportunity. Hurrying back to his mare, Edge swung himself onto her back, and urged her down the river.

She cantered steadily, Edge guiding her just shy of the slippery erosion of the riverbank. He could see sunlight breaking through the trees ahead. Surely the vampire hadn’t gone beyond the forest? The sunlight was hot, piercing through the shade of the trees. It was comforting at least, knowing that the vampire wouldn’t make it very far. The fact that it also made it an easier target for other potential pursuers was a little less comforting.

Edge could see no sign of mislaid debris or mud around the riverbanks as he trotted downstream… which meant the vampire must not have left the river. It would be completely at the mercy of the sunlight beyond the cover of the trees. Well. At least Edge had captured a foolish vampire, if nothing else.

The sun blazed down from the sky as Edge emerged from the forest. Ahead, the ground sloped upward, leading out of the Valley. Rocky cliffs loomed above, and as far as the eye could see, fields of poppies coated the ground, bathing the landscape in red. Edge could hear the crashing sound of water ahead, the river plummeting down into a lake, which was tucked into the foot of the Valley. Edge continued down the path of the river, the sun glancing off the water and making sunspots dance off the rocks alongside it. The breeze that touched the air was gentle, but Edge could feel panic setting in, the vampire still nowhere in sight.

The river began to slope downward, falling steadily over the rocks. Ahead, Edge could see the precipice over which the water fell. Vampires were durable, of course, but Edge knew it was unlikely one would survive the fall. Not intact, at least, and Edge would prefer to have this vampire in one piece.

He brought his horse to a stop as they reached the clifftop, frowning. He glanced around, but the landscape was bare but for the poppies and rocky outcroppings. He turned around, looking back at the shadow of the silver trees. Perhaps the vampire had stayed out of the sunlight after all. It certainly made more sense…

Edge’s attention was suddenly drawn by the sound of a splash behind him. He spun his horse around quickly, in time to see the vampire scrambling from the river on the opposite bank. It stumbled over the rocks, shooting a glance over its shoulder at Edge. Its eyes were wide and frantic, and it turned hastily, running into the vast expanse of poppies.

Edge was already in pursuit, his horse cantering along the river. But when he brought her to the crossing, she reared, whinnying in discontent. “Come on, girl,” Edge growled, urging her forward. But she merely tossed her head, taking a few cautious steps back from the river. Cursing, Edge swung himself to the ground, examining the rushing waters. A few rocks dotted the riverbed; it didn’t appear to be too deep. Grumbling a little under his breath, he waded through the chilly stream of water. When he reached the opposite bank, he was drenched to his waist. But he could still see the vampire ahead of him, and raced after it, gritting his teeth against the wet feeling of mud in his shoes.

The vampire had a fair head start on Edge, but it was clear that the sunlight (and perhaps the remaining silver in its system) were becoming more than a burden to it. The terrain was fairly flat, but it kept stumbling, and it had its arms wrapped around itself, one hand shielding its face against the sun. Edge was gaining on it quickly, running through the red flowers as fast as his legs could carry him.

It wasn’t long before the vampire’s strength waned. It gradually slowed to a halt, doubling over. Edge could hear its ragged breathing, even from a distance. It collapsed, disappearing into the endless bed of crimson. When Edge reached it, it was lying on its side, curled into itself and whimpering softly. “please…” it breathed, voice weak.

 

_remember bro, never feel sorry fer ‘em…_

It released a choked sob as Edge crouched beside it, examining it with a frown. Its arm shielded its eyes against the sun, but Edge could see thin trickles of golden-red magic bleeding down its cheekbones. Small, darkening veins coloured its soaked bones—visible even through its thin white shirt. “please,” it said again, its voice strained with desperation. “please… just…”

 

_… they might try ta beg fer their lives…_

 

Edge reached out a hand, lightly gracing the vampire’s arm. The bone almost burned under his touch, and he drew away sharply. It sobbed again, and this time, magic began to trickle from the corner of its mouth. “please get me out of the sun. i don’t care what you do with me… just… please…”

_… it’s all a lie. it’s just their way of trickin’ ya. don’ fall fer it…_

A soft breeze stirred the blood red poppies that swallowed the landscape around them. The flowers flitted across the vampire’s chest and face, but it seemed not to notice, too consumed by its own pain. Edge carefully pried the vampire’s arm away from its eyes. It whimpered softly in protest, but was too weak to fight back. Something twinged in Edge’s soul as the vampire’s face came into sight. Dark veins of magic ran outward from its eye sockets, its eye-lights extinguished completely. Magic—both gold and red—seeped from its eyes, trailing down its face. Its expression was twisted with agony and exhaustion.

 

_show them no sympathy, because they don’ deserve it._

Swallowing back his ~~pity~~ disgust, Edge slid his arms beneath the vampire’s back and legs, and lifted it from the ground. It was astoundingly light, as if it were hollow inside. It barely seemed to notice the presence of his arms, slumping as he carried it back across the field. Flowers crunched beneath his boots, and the vampire moaned and sobbed under the beating sun. Edge clenched his teeth, squeezing his sockets shut. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “I’m getting you out of the sun.”

 

****

 

They reached the Caretaker’s Inn before nightfall. The vampire drifted in and out of consciousness as they rode through the day, but its pained whimpers never ceased. The veins painting its bones grew darker as the day wore on, and by the time the sun began to set, its face was streaked with crusting magic from its eyes and mouth.

When Edge pushed open the rusty door to the inn, he was met with only darkness and silence. The air smelled musty, and the dim light filtering in through the grimy windows revealed odd bits of furniture—all coated in dust. The vampire still lay unconscious in his arms, its soft noises of discontent subsiding now that they were indoors. “Hello?” Edge called. His voice echoed off the old wood eerily. Had he come to the wrong place? The sign above the door had definitely said ‘the Caretaker’s Inn’. But it appeared all but abandoned, the furniture unused and the candles unlit.

“Hello…?” Edge’s voice emerged softer this time, a chill running down his spine as the trees creaked in the wind outside. “Is this the Caretaker’s Inn? I—all I seek is shelter for the night.”

Silence rang in Edge’s skull. The vampire stirred in his arms, but didn’t wake. Swallowing, Edge took a cautious step forward, the floorboards groaning beneath his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a door across the room. It was slightly ajar. Dust swirled around his ankles as he crept towards it. The curtains were drawn over the windows outside, the last rays of sunlight barely creeping into the gloomy room. An old armchair sat in front of a fireplace in the centre of the room. It was swathed in cobwebs, and ashes still scattered the hearth.

As Edge neared the door, he heard a second set of footsteps, and froze. The steady creak of decaying wood sounded as if it were coming from the room ahead of him. He swallowed as a shadow emerged in the doorway. It was large, the shape of curved horns atop its head. Edge couldn’t see the monster’s face. “Please—I…” He glanced down at the creature in his arms, and cleared his throat. “My—cousin, is hurt. I beg your hospitality. We just need a place to rest.”

The figure was silent for a time. Edge’s soul pounded against his ribcage, his magic bubbling in anticipation. The monster took a step forward, and Edge inched backward. “Who are you?” the monster asked. It had a surprisingly gentle voice, though its tone was tainted with suspicion.

“My name is Edge. I’m a traveller. I—my cousin and I are heading home, we just need—”

Edge flinched as the monster crept forward again, only this time, light fell onto her face. Her fur was shabby and off-white, and a long scar ran across her muzzle. Her teeth were sharp, as were her horns, and her amber eyes seemed to pierce the darkness. But to Edge’s complete bewilderment, she was smiling. “Oh, of course, young one. You may stay here for the night.” Her eyes wandered down to the vampire in his arms, narrowing briefly before her smile returned. “You’d best take care of your cousin.”

Edge blinked, stunned. “I’m sorry—who are you?” he asked, cautiously.

The monster laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Oh, how foolish of me! I almost forgot to introduce myself. I’m the Caretaker. My name is Toriel.”

“You—you’re the Caretaker?” Edge asked, surprised.

Toriel nodded, smiling softly. “I watch over the Ruins, or… I used to, at least. Things have become a bit… unpleasant, of late.” She fell silent for a moment, her gaze distant. Edge remained rooted to the spot, watching her suspiciously. He almost jumped when she released another soft laugh, beckoning for him to follow her. “Come with me, I will show you to your room. Best get settled before the sun fades.” Again, her gaze darted to the vampire, but her smile remained amicable.

Edge trailed after her, but kept his magic at the ready. His arms were beginning to ache beneath the vampire’s weight, and he was grateful when Toriel led him into a room with a bed. He lay the vampire atop the covers, his arms thanking him for the relief from the strain. He felt uncomfortable beneath Toriel’s gaze, which was intent on him. Looking up, he cleared his throat. “Um, thank you for your hospitality.” She merely smiled at him. Feeling uncertain, Edge reached into his inventory for his gold. “How much is it for the night? We may need to stay an extra day until my c-cousin has recovered, but I’ll gladly pay—”

But Toriel was shaking her head, placing a hand over her mouth as she tittered. “Oh, don’t be silly, dear one,” she said. “The stay is free.”

Edge paused, narrowing his sockets, suddenly suspicious. “Free? No, certainly not. There must be something I can—”

“Don’t bother yourself,” Toriel interrupted. Edge opened his mouth to protest, but Toriel cut him off. “Now, you must be weary from your travels. I’ll go make you something to eat. A pie, perhaps… It’s been so long since I’ve—would you prefer butterscotch or cinnamon? Or perhaps a bit of both?” She smiled sweetly as she awaited Edge’s answer, but Edge could only stare at her.

“I—I’m not…”

“Oh, of course, silly me! You would probably prefer the snail pie. It is far more nutritious after all.”

Edge shook his head quickly. “No, I—”

“I’ll let you tend to your cousin’s injuries. He’s looking a little burnt out.” Toriel covered her mouth again, a small laugh escaping from between her teeth. “Forgive me. A silly joke. Take care of him. I shall return soon with sustenance. And perhaps later I can run you a warm bath…”

Before Edge could respond, she had wandered from the room, closing the door behind her as she muttered to herself. Edge stood for a moment, the still silence broken only by the wind, whistling through the trees outside. The vampire stirred in its sleep, and Edge glanced at it, frowning. Its face was drawn with pain, teeth clenched, magic still seeping from between them. Dry red and gold residue coated its face, the veins around its sockets still prominent, but pale. It had curled in on itself, sweat dripping from its skull.

Sighing, Edge took a seat beside it on the bed. The shift of the mattress seemed to disturb its sleep, because it cracked a socket open, glancing at him wearily. “i’m not dead,” it remarked, hoarsely.

“The sunlight wouldn’t have killed you,” Edge muttered, not looking at it.

“no, but i thought you might have.” The vampire’s eyes drifted to the knife at Edge’s hip, and it lifted a brow bone. “what happened to ‘you’re expendable’?”

Edge didn’t respond, remaining placid and not meeting the vampire’s gaze. As it shuffled closer, he inched away, his bones crawling. “It was very foolish of you to try and escape,” he said, quietly.

The vampire winced as it pulled itself into a sitting position, drawing its knees to its chest. “it was foolish of me to try and escape during the day,” it said, propping a pillow behind its skull. “i’ll remember that for next time.”

Edge’s fingers curled into a fist reflexively, and he turned to face the vampire with narrowed sockets. It looked wary, drawing away slightly as Edge pulled the knife from its sheath. “There will not be a next time,” he said, calmly, though the threat edged his voice. “I was lenient today…” He leaned in, pressing the knife against the vampire’s cheekbone. A small gasp of pain escaped it as the silver burned through the surface of the bone, magic beading beneath the knife’s point. “It will not happen again,” Edge whispered.

He fixed the vampire’s stare coldly. He couldn’t be certain whether it was sun damage, exhaustion, his threat—or a mixture of all three—but the vampire conceded, dipping its head. “right. of course not.”

 

  1. _sympathy._



Edge inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a brief second to gather his composure. “But. Given your less than ideal reaction to the sun, I think it would be wise if we only travelled by night from now on.”

The vampire glanced up, sockets going wide with surprise. “oh. well. thank you.”

Edge shook his head, turning away. “I’m not doing it for you. As I’ve said before, I need you intact, and…” He looked at it with disgust. “I hardly think the King will approve of a vampire leaking magic all over his royal carpets.”

The vampire looked surprisingly embarrassed at the comment, ducking its head quickly and wiping at the dry magic around its eyes. The silence hung heavily between them, until the vampire spoke, its voice soft. “you—” Its gaze was low, its eye-lights straying from Edge’s face. Swallowing, it clenched its teeth, taking a shaky breath. “you know what the king does to my kind, don’t you?”

Edge froze, blinking. The question took him off guard—perhaps simply because the vampire had been all jests and mockery thus far. But he quickly composed himself, shaking his head as he returned his knife to its hilt. “That isn’t my problem.” The words tasted dry in his mouth.

A quiet laugh escaped the vampire, its trembling fingers clasping together around its knees. “i suppose not.” Cautiously, it lifted a hand to the collar at its neck, hooking a finger beneath it experimentally.

Heavy silence hung between them, and Edge shifted uncomfortably. Taut worry had settled into the vampire’s expression; genuine fear even. The veins of magic on its skull had mostly faded, and its eyes had stopped bleeding, but it looked… pitiful. Something twisted in Edge’s soul, and he snapped his gaze away, quickly climbing off the bed. “You should get yourself cleaned up,” he mumbled.

The vampire was quiet, and Edge turned to find it watching him. It opened its mouth as if to speak, before quickly clamping it shut and glancing away. When it repeated the action a second time, Edge sighed irritably, turning away. He opened his inventory, in search of something to eat. He’d be damned if he trusted the strange Caretaker to provide him with edible food.

“w-what’s your name?”

Edge turned, frowning dubiously as the vampire. To his surprise, it seemed sheepish, its eyes downcast and a small smile tugging at one of the corners of its teeth. “i mean—i know you’re not a knight. so, i can’t call you sir. well—you are a knight, but… you’re also a hunter, so…”

“I’m not a knight,” Edge said, stiffly. The vampire quickly glanced up, sockets widening a little.

“oh—but, you wear armour. and carry a weapon, so i assumed…” It swallowed, releasing a small laugh. “well, i suppose you are a knight of sorts—a silver knight, if you will.” It grinned, flashing its small, glistening fangs. When Edge only met it with dry distaste, its smile faded, and it cleared its throat. “well, my name is rus,” it told him. “at least, that’s what most people call me. so… you can too, if you want.” The vampire fell silent, shoulders slumping a little as it folded its arms around itself.

 

_just remember, there ain’t a shred a’ humanity in ‘em, so don’ treat ‘em with any._

Sighing, Edge turned, making for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, closing his eyes for a moment, before muttering, “Edge. My name is Edge.” He couldn’t resist glancing at the vampire over his shoulder, though he almost immediately wished he hadn’t.

It was smiling again, though this time there was a hint of mischief in its eyes. “edge?” it said, as if testing the word out. “a nice name, though i think i prefer to think of you as my silver knight.” Its smile only widened as Edge flushed deeply. “you did save my life after all.”

 

_the second ya show ‘em mercy, yer as good as walkin’ dust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me when editing this chapter that Edge is a bit of a dick. (And it took me perhaps a little too long to realise as much).


	4. A thirst to kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violence, death, malice--vampires hunger for those things. Killing is instinctual, and what's more--they enjoy it.  
> Or, so Edge has believed for most of his life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mildly graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, aggression, injury, death. (Please let me know if I've missed anything! This chapter is pretty heavy on violence.)

Much to Edge’s frustration, ~~Rus~~ — _the vampire_ did not recover as quickly as he’d hoped. Though it made sure to stay well away from the sunlight that streamed in through the bedroom windows the next morning, thin veins still blemished its bones, and any attempts at walking around were met with disgruntlement. Though Edge was tempted to ignore its suffering and continue with their journey, he wasn’t quite ready to risk damaging it beyond repair. Vampires were a rarity these days, and Edge didn’t have time to waste searching for another.

But the longer they spent at the inn, the more suspicious he grew of its caretaker. Toriel had yet to act with hostility… and well, that was exactly what was bothering him. She was too welcoming. Too attentive to their needs. Too _kind._ And she was demanding no payment in return for her hospitality. Edge didn’t have a shred of trust for her; they needed to leave—soon.

Though he would have preferred to have left the moment the sun had faded the next evening, he conceded to allow the vampire one extra day to recover. Unfortunately, that meant one extra day enduring its company in near-close quarters. Edge didn’t want to risk leaving the vampire alone in the room; though the sun was bright outside, he’d learnt his lesson about letting it out of his sight. But being in its company was… unsettling, to say in the least. The constant feeling of its eyes on him made Edge’s soul churn. Their golden hue had deepened to a bright amber…

… which raised another problem. Edge had forgotten to account for the vampire’s diet. While he knew vampires could survive longer than mortal monsters without eating, he was dubious of the creature’s ability (or will) to retain its self-control should it grow even a little peckish.

 

_i’ve seen ‘em… tear a monster ta pieces…_

Edge tried to shake off the thought. He would have to find something for the vampire to eat sooner or later—for now though, it seemed stable enough, and he was content to ignore the problem.

He sat near the window for most of the day, absorbing the faint rays of sun that managed to trickle through the drawn curtains. Dust motes floated in the air around him, and the floorboards creaked every time he moved. He dozed a little, but his sleep was restless, his thoughts on the creature asleep on the bed mere feet away from him.

Though the vampire slept through the day, Edge wasn’t eager to take his chances with it, and remained watchful. He was grateful at least, for the silver encrusted collar around its neck. It suppressed most of its abnormal strengths, and hindered its ability to use magic. But, it wouldn’t keep it from sinking its fangs into Edge—so he remained alert.

When the sky began to melt from blue, to pink, to orange, Edge stood, his joints creaking from disuse. He paused at the bedroom door, casting a cautious glance at the sleeping vampire. It looked strangely peaceful; curled up with its arms around itself, teeth slightly parted. Its fangs were bared, but not in a way that made Edge feel entirely… unpleasant.

He swallowed, turning and quickly leaving the room. The door clicked behind him, seeming to echo in the still silence of the dark passage. The house had a sinister feel to it; the air was dry and dusty—as if no one had lived here for hundreds of years. Yet Edge had seen Toriel, shuffling around, often muttering to herself about various cooking recipes or things Edge didn’t care to decipher.

He padded across the passage towards the front door. He had yet to see Toriel today, and truth be told, he’d prefer if things remained that way. Ideally, he and the vampire would be long gone before she’d noticed their absence.

When he reached the front door, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder; this place left him with the uncanny feeling that he was being watched, especially when he was alone. But there was nothing in sight but dust and pale streams of sunlight penetrating the thick layer of grime covering the windows. The front door creaked as Edge opened it, and he hurried outside, shutting it hastily behind him.

A cool breeze touched the air, blowing dry leaves across the path. Edge pulled his coat around his shoulders and made his way to the inn’s makeshift stable—a rickety fence surrounding a small field. His mare was huddled in a corner of the old wooden pen, chewing disinterestedly on the withering grass. She nickered happily as Edge walked over to her, pressing her mouth into his hand. Edge smiled, stroking her soft silver coat. Being near her relieved some of the tension from his weary mind.

When she nuzzled against his shoulder, he gave a small laugh. “Alright, I’ll see what I have,” he said quietly, digging through his inventory. He frowned, shifting the vast assortment of weapons and supplies aside. He had very little food left—far less than he’d anticipated he’d have remaining at this point. Offering the horse a sympathetic grimace, he shook his head. “Sorry, girl. It seems we’re going to have to skip a few meals until we reach Snowdin.” The mare tossed her head, snorting. Edge couldn’t help but agree. He was famished. “It’s okay, we’ll be leaving soon,” he told her, though dull exhaustion wore at his mind.

The light of day had faded, thin clouds drifting across the deep purple sky. The old dead trees creaked in the strong wind, and Edge shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’m going to go get the v—” Edge swallowed against the word, shooting a suspicious glance around, as if someone might be listening to his conversation with the horse. He turned back to her, patting her reassuringly. “I won’t be long. We’re going to keep moving now, don’t worry.”

With a heavy weight in his chest, Edge turned—only to be stopped abruptly by a large, solid figure. Toriel stood before him, a wild look in her large amber eyes. Edge cleared his throat, quickly dusting himself off. “Toriel. Forgive me. You startled me.”

For once, she didn’t smile. Her expression was taut, worry lining her tired features. “Listen to me, young one,” she whispered, a strange desperation in her tone, “stop this madness at once. Do you understand me? You need to _stop._ ”

Edge blinked, inching backward half a step. “I—don’t understand. I’m sorry. What do you—”

“ _Don’t—_ ” Toriel broke off abruptly, as if realising herself. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, a somberness had overcome her features. “Don’t take him to Asgore. You don’t know the fate you’re resigning him to.”

“Him…? I—”

“Your friend,” Toriel hissed, grasping Edge’s shoulders and shaking them earnestly. “Your _vampire_ friend—don’t let Asgore have him!”

Edge tensed in her grip, trying to wriggle himself free, but she held him fast. He stared at her with widened sockets, alarm and fear ringing in his skull. He opened his mouth, but no words came to him. “I…”

“You don’t know what he does to them—you don’t _know._ ” Toriel’s voice had dropped low, and her eyes darted erratically over Edge’s face. “You can’t let him have another one! You can’t give him what he wants!”

Edge swallowed thickly, trying to steady the rapid beating of his soul. Stiffly, he said, “Toriel. I think—I-I think you must be mistaken. Please, let me go.” Edge refused to break eye contact, despite the way his bones rattled audibly beneath the larger monster’s steel grip. Just as he’d begun to fear that the situation would require force, Toriel sighed heavily, letting her hands drop. Edge breathed out, relieved.

“My— _cousin_ and I need to be moving on. Our supplies are low, and we can’t afford to delay any longer.” When Toriel made no move to stop him, he hurried past her, turning before he reached the front door. “I’m more than grateful for your hospitality, but we cannot extend our stay. Thank you for—” Edge swallowed, “for helping us.”

Toriel gazed at him. An alarming sense of calm had settled in her features. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet, it was almost lost in the howling wind. “You’d be better off killing him now.” Edge stood stock still, panic threatening to bubble to the surface. But he kept his composure, and turned swiftly, hurrying inside.

He all but ran down the corridor to the bedroom, throwing the door open and rushing to the bed, where the vampire still slept. Shaking it awake, he hissed, “Wake up. We’re leaving.”

The vampire slowly opened its eyes—now the colour of embers—looking at Edge with a yawn. “what…?”

“Get up,” Edge snapped, yanking the vampire off the bed and to its feet. It almost overbalanced, clinging to Edge’s arm for support. He shook it off with disgust. “Come on. We have no time to waste. We need to leave.”

The vampire slowly trailed after Edge as he hurried out into the passageway. “why?” it asked, stifling another yawn. Its complete lack of unease was almost alarming. Edge elected to ignore it, only gripping the collar around its neck to hurry it along. It chuckled softly as it stumbled after him, and Edge wished more than anything that leaving it behind was an option.

He couldn’t decide whether or not to be relieved when they emerged outside and Toriel was nowhere in sight. A crawling feeling ran down his spine, and he couldn’t help but shoot a shaky glance over his shoulder. Once the vampire had mounted the horse, Edge wasted no time swinging himself onto her back behind it. The icy breeze blew right through his ribcage, and he shivered as he guided the mare out of the pen and through the gnarled black trees dotting the pathway.

When they reached the road, Edge cast a final glance at the old inn. His chest clenched in horror at the sight of Toriel, peering at them through one of the windows. Her expression was bland, yet it sent a cold dread through Edge’s soul. He didn’t spend a moment longer deliberating, kicking the mare’s sides and urging her forward into the night. He kept her at a steady gallop until the Caretaker’s Inn was barely a speck of light behind them.

 

Edge’s recently acquired prisoner made travelling by night feel a lot less appealing. Though years of hunting had rendered him accustomed to the darkness, the cold, lifeless shadows around him left him tense. And the lack of sun meant he’d lost his advantage over his captive.

The vampire was strangely silent as they navigated the old crumbling buildings and towers. It took Edge a few seconds of close examination to realise it had fallen asleep, its head slumped forward on its chest. He was almost tempted to shake it awake—just on principle—but he found he was a lot fonder of it when it wasn’t speaking, and decided against it.

The air grew cooler as they rode on through the night; Snowdin Forest was drawing near. The grass grew lusher and the landscape flatter, the mountains and rolling hills smoothing out ahead of them. The smell of pine needles and crisp winter snow began to carry on the breeze, and Edge took a deep breath of the air, briefly shutting his eyes. It smelled a lot like home (though home hadn’t always been a pleasant place). He remained wary, scanning every rock, tree, and crumbling ruin they passed for signs of threat.

By the time they had reached the edge of the Ruins, the stars were winking down at them from the deep black sky. The border between Snowdin and the Ruins was marked by a towering archway set in a large wall that stretched as far as the eye could see, and stood as tall as the large pines of Snowdin Forest. The wall was perhaps the only piece of ancient architecture that still stood in these parts. It was the same strange grey that glowed lavender beneath the night sky. Symbols were engraved into the concrete of the archway, which loomed above them like a great, dark beast.

Beyond the arch, the road dipped beneath the ground, a tunnel overarching the pathway to Snowdin Forest. Edge felt wary about traversing the dark underground path; it was only a mile or so long, but scavengers looking for cheap EXP often roamed it. Though it was unlikely he would be targeted were he alone (his LV spoke for itself, after all), having the vampire in his possession created a bit of a… predicament.

He stopped before the archway, climbing down from his mare’s back to stretch his legs. It was still a few hours before sunrise—he had time to rest. As the crisp, snow-laden grass crunched beneath his feet, he heard the vampire giving a tired yawn. He glanced at it to find its amber eyes watching him sleepily, a lazy grin on its face. “mornin’, sunshine,” it said, tilting its head.

Edge scowled as it hopped down from the horse, who had begun to nibble at the fresh grass. The vampire approached Edge, and he flinched, his fingers drifting to the knife at his belt. It stopped a few feet away from him, holding its hands up in mock-surrender. “relax, love. tasting silver once was enough.” Its eye-lights darted unwittingly to the knife, but its smile remained easy. Glancing at the landscape around them, it asked, “so, where are we? i don’t suppose you decided to turn around and take me back to the golden sea?”

Edge bit back his retorts—he was trying his hardest to avoid engaging with the vampire in any way. Conversing with it would only serve to reinforce its twisted idea that it deserved the same level of decency as he did. He leaned against the interior of the looming archway, digging through his inventory for something to eat. He found a leftover piece of stale bread and a few scraps of dried fruit. Deciding to save the fruit for later, he took a bite of the bread, grimacing against the taste.

The vampire was surveying him, its fang-baring grin ever-present. Edge avoided its gaze, staring at the small poppies pushing through the cracks in the snowy ground as he chewed. He heard the vampire’s soft footsteps, then flinched sharply as it came to stand beside him, slumping to the ground against the tall pillar of the arch. Edge stared down at it, bewildered by its audacity. “so, edge,” it began, its smile growing as Edge visibly recoiled at its use of his name, “what brings you to these parts anyway? other than the pursuit of attractive company.”

Edge swallowed back the bilious magic that threatened to rise to his mouth, looking away and keeping his teeth firmly clenched. When he remained silent, the vampire laughed softly. “not much of a conversationalist? well, neither am i, but we’ll make do, i’m sure.” Edge tore another piece off the small half-loaf of bread, shoving it in his mouth before returning the remainder of it to his inventory. “i must say though,” the vampire went on, “i am curious as to how you became a knight.”

“Not a knight,” Edge mumbled, folding his arms and watching the horizon. Oh, how he would have loved to see the sun break over the edge of the land and scorch the vampire into silence.

“silver knight,” the vampire corrected. Edge looked at it, brow bone lifted in dubiety, and it tilted its head, grinning. “but, from what i’ve heard—being a silver knight isn’t so glamourous this side of the golden sea. it would truly be a shame if someone as charming as yourself were executed.”

Edge stiffened, drawing in a heavy breath. “We should keep moving,” he muttered, glancing around at the withered trees cautiously. Lingering in one place too long was never a wise decision when one’s survival was in play. He shot a mistrusting look down the black tunnel of snow. The sight of it filled him with dread. But given the walls of towering stone that stood between Snowdin and the Ruins, they had no real options but to risk the tunnel.

He looked back at the vampire, who was regarding him doubtfully. “Get up,” he instructed it, walking over to his mare, which was grazing absently.

With a drawn-out sigh, the vampire climbed to its feet, dusting the snow from its pants. “no rest for the wicked,” it mumbled as it mounted the horse.

“No, indeed,” Edge responded, sardonically, climbing up behind it. He shivered as a cold wind blew from within the tunnel, the air howling inside the hollow cave. With no small amount of reluctance, he squeezed his mare’s sides, guiding her forward into the enveloping darkness of the tunnel.

 

The silence inside the cavernous underground was deafening. Beyond the soft crunch of snow beneath his mare’s hooves, Edge couldn’t hear a thing. Even the vampire was unnaturally quiet—he almost wished it would speak, just to fill the silence and quell the ringing in his skull. He didn’t dare take his mare faster than a steady trot, afraid the noise might draw attention to them. Already, he felt trapped, the tunnel offering no escape but for the way they’d come—or the other end.

Edge’s breaths quickened as the cold—yet somehow stifling—air of the tunnel became oppressive, the beat of his soul seeming audible, even to his own hearing. The vampire shifted in its seat in front of him, glancing around anxiously as they descended deeper into the darkness. Edge’s mare began to toss her head, stopping occasionally to paw the ground nervously with her hoof. Her restlessness should have been enough to alert Edge to the fact that something wasn’t quite right.

Later he would ponder on whether it was the vampire, his own lack of sleep, or the tunnel itself that dulled his senses—but it took Edge too long to recognise the sound of footsteps behind them. The second he realised that the crunch of snow was just out of sync with his mare’s own steps—he spun his head, ducking just in time to avoid a small, hurtling bullet of magic.

He barely took a moment to register the three uniformed Loox lurking in the shadows just a few feet behind him before he was swinging down from his horse, pulling the vampire to the ground with him. The vampire winced as they landed, and Edge dragged it behind him, narrowly dodging a second parry of magical bullets. He braced himself as the Loox descended upon them, magic flaring at the tips of their fingers and in their bulbous eyes.

Edge summoned a defensive shield of bones from the ground to ward the Loox off, grasping the vampire by the arm as the wall shattered, magical shards flying in all directions. The Loox rushed forward, their leader yelling words Edge’s mind didn’t process. As Edge turned, he realised with despair that his mare had bolted, galloping towards the dim light at the other end of the tunnel. It suddenly seemed so far away.

Something heavy rammed into Edge’s side, and he stumbled, feeling the points dropping off his HP as the breath was knocked out of him. Grasping wildly for a defensive form of magic, he angled his body to shield the vampire, before throwing his summoned constructs of bone wildly at their oncoming attackers. The Loox leader dropped to the ground, the attack soaring over his head—and making contact with one of his lieutenants. Edge spared no moment to heed the Loox’ yelp of surprise as a shard of bone pierced its eye, already sending a second storm of magic at the remaining two Loox with a laboured grunt. The leader shielded himself with a barrier of magic, stopping a few paces away from Edge, panting.

Edge and the leader surveyed each other for a moment, magic flaring in their palms, heavy breaths misting in the air. The remaining lieutenant was shooting panicked glances at its fallen ally, and it hovered cautiously behind its leader. “We can make this easy for you, knight,” the Loox leader said, taking a deliberate step forward. Edge’s magic flared, and the Loox froze, but didn’t retreat. “Hand us the vampire, and we’ll see you on your way.”

Edge’s attention darted between the two creatures as he summoned a long construct of bone, holding it before him in warning. “Leave us be, and I’ll spare you,” he intoned, voice dropping dangerously. Unwittingly, the leader’s eye flickered again to the vampire, his fingers twitching around the ball of magic in his hand. Edge tensed as the Loox took another step forward, growling in his chest. “Not another _step._ ”

“The Caretaker has ordered us to dispatch the vampire,” the Loox told him. He looked almost remorseful—but Edge could see the tick beneath the expression; the hunger for violence that lived in so many monsters who gained too much LV. “She said to bring you no harm—but if you force our hand, we will have no choice but to eliminate you too.”

Edge could hear the vampire’s heavy breathing behind him; its bones were rattling. His hand reflexively tightened around the long shard of bone, fingers slippery with sweat and magic. “I’m afraid I don’t find those terms agreeable,” he said tightly. He could see the anxiousness in the lieutenant’s expression where it stood behind its leader; it couldn’t seem to keep its eye off the hindered Loox, which was still bleeding out in the snow. “You’ll have to forgive me,” Edge said, aiming his attack at the leader.

The demeanour of the monster immediately shifted, his features morphing into a snarl. Edge only had a split second to react before both Loox fired a series of small bullets of magic in his direction; he dove aside, taking the vampire with him. The vampire grunted as they hit the ground, and Edge winced as a small spark of magic sliced at his floating ribs. He rolled over just in time to avoid another strike of magic that hit the ground beside him, the melted snow splashing beneath the heat of the attack. Panting heavily, Edge dragged the vampire behind him, and launched a flurry of rapid-fire shards of bone at the approaching Loox.

He swerved to narrowly avoid a strike of the leader’s fist, and kicked out sharply, making contact with the monster’s ragged teeth. But the brief distraction earned him a stinging hit to the shoulder as the lieutenant’s magic caught him. He hissed between his teeth, clutching his arm as the leader grunted from his kick, stumbling backward. Edge managed to recover first, and drove his construct of bone forward, aiming for the Loox’ eye. The Loox quickly blocked the attack with a quick jab of his arm, but Edge could see his HP dropping as the magic seared its skin. Hissing sharply, he darted backward, standing beside his lieutenant with his bloodied teeth bared.

“You could have avoided this if you’d just surrendered,” he snarled, lunging forward. Edge darted out of the way and the heated magic struck the ground beside him, slicking the damp ground. The Loox paced carefully around Edge with his fists clenched, a sneer curling his broken teeth. Edge circled carefully, keeping the vampire between himself and the cave wall, shielded. “But I suppose I should thank you,” the Loox went on. “I could do with some extra EXP—and you look like you’re worth a hell of a lot.”

He pounced forward at the same time as his lieutenant sent a strong wave of magical bullets hurtling in Edge’s direction. Edge barely had a chance to bring up a wall of bones to shield himself from the magic before he was struck square in the chest by the leader’s fist. He groaned and stumbled back against the cold wall of the tunnel, the damage sapping his HP. He wasn’t given a moment to recover before the leader was on him again, fists flying as he struck Edge against the jaw repeatedly. Pain rang through Edge’s skull as his head was slammed against the hard wall of the cave. Fighting the sharp ache in his jaw and ribs with a strained growl, he lashed out with his claws bared. Magic flared on the tips of his fingers as he made contact with the Loox’ large eye, tearing through the magical membrane.

The Loox howled in agony and stumbled backward, thick, sticky magic spewing from the wound and staining the snow an inky yellow. Edge lunged at him and knocked him to the ground, even as his ribs and jaw screamed against the action. He felt the faint sting of magical attacks knocking off small amounts of his HP as they made contact with him—but they were weak enough to be ignored. Edge summoned all the ill-intent he could muster, before driving his fingers as deep into the leader’s large eye as they would go. The monster’s tormented shrieks were cut off by a pained gurgling, which faded as he slowly crumbled to dust.

Edge felt a rush as EXP flooded him, and he was on his feet before the leader’s groans had subsided, his attention furiously set on the remaining Loox, who quivered before him, stumbling backward as he descended upon it.

He barely took note of its frantic pleas, the overwhelming sensation of fresh EXP driving him forward, a long shard of bone already in his hand. He drove the attack through the Loox’ back as it turned to retreat, nothing more than a gargled choking noise escaping it before its dust littered the snow.

Edge stood, panting, his bones tingling with the thrill of his victory and the reward of garnered EXP. He tipped his head back, his magic raw and static as the EXP flowed through him, sweat and excess magic dripping from his skull. It took him half a moment to remember the vampire, and he quickly turned to see it cowering against the wall, all typical traces of humour gone from its face. It had its arms wrapped around itself, its shoulders slumped, and the rattling of its bones seemed to echo off the tunnel’s walls. “e-edge…” it whispered, its normally carefree tone of voice small and timid. Edge narrowed his sockets as he regarded it, and it flinched noticeably, shrinking further into the wall.

A flicker of movement to the vampire’s right, and Edge was surging forward, instinctively reaching for the knife at his belt. The vampire whimpered as Edge sliced the blade through the air, cutting at the straggling Loox lieutenant as it blindly sent an attack hurtling at the vampire. Edge threw himself between the vampire and the Loox, the magic hitting him at full force without any defences to guard him against the damage. He grunted in pain, but with an easy slash of the knife, the Loox was groaning, its body diminishing to dust.

Edge’s fingers shook as he returned the knife to its hilt. His body quivered in response to the overwhelming surge of EXP, and he felt his LV increasing to 8. But even the flood of magic through his soul wasn’t enough to keep him conscious. He dropped to his knees, the world growing dim around him. His HP had dropped to half; he could feel magic leaking from his ribs, and his jaw ached.

“edge.”

A rush of horror filled Edge as he remembered the vampire. He reached for the knife at his belt as it crouched beside him, but his fingers were trembling too much to get a proper grip on it. His vision was dwindling, but he could still see the cold amber glow of the vampire’s eyes as it surveyed him. He groaned, fighting exhaustion as he tried to struggle away from it. He felt its arms cradling him, but he could do nothing to stop it from hoisting him off the ground, his body too weak to fight back. As darkness consumed him, all he could register was the dull red of the vampire’s eyes. _Too red,_ his mind screamed.

 

_not all of ‘em have red eyes. only the really hungry ones._ _and yer goin’ ta be prayin’ ya don’ run inta them at that point._

****

 

Edge could feel the warmth of day in the air and hear the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds around him. But the world was dark, his body still fighting sleep.

It was panic that jolted him awake—the sudden recollection of the night’s events spurring him into consciousness. He sat up sharply, immediately reaching for his knife—only to find it missing. He looked around frantically. Melting snow and tall pines with browning needles stretched as far as the eye could see—he was in Snowdin Forest. His gaze travelled to the creature in his company, who was crouching beside him, uncharacteristic worry lining its features.

The vampire stood quickly, inching away from Edge as magic flared in his sockets. “Where is it?” Edge demanded, growling dangerously.

The vampire remained still, blinking at him. “where is what?”

“Where is—” Edge grimaced as he tried to stand, his wounded ribs aching. “Where is my bloody knife?” he spat, pushing down the pain and rising so that he was at eye level with the vampire.

“o-oh.” The vampire watched him anxiously, fingers twisting tremulously in its now-ragged and bloody shirt. “listen, i—you look a little, um… unstable at the moment, and i—” The vampire flinched away as Edge stepped forward, holding its hands up defensively. “okay—look, i’ll give it to you, i just… maybe you should wait until you’re—until you’ve settled a bit before you start handling dangerous weapons.”

The vampire offered Edge a hesitant smile—but Edge wasn’t having it. The mingle of frustration, exhaustion, and the fresh EXP that still trickled through his bones was enough to make him snap. He lunged forward, pushing the vampire against one of the tall pine trees, its thin trunk rattling beneath the force the act. A startled gasp escaped the vampire. “w-wait! i’m sorry, i—”

“I have no interest in your excuses, vermin,” Edge snarled. “Return my knife to me at once, or I’ll—”

The sound of a twig breaking drew Edge’s attention, and he spun sharply, the vampire still pinned beneath his grip. The trees around them were still, but for the gentle sway of the branches in the wind. But something felt off, and this time, Edge wasn’t inclined to discount his instincts. Lifting a hand, and ignoring the way his ribs ached in protest, he allowed magic to flow from his palm, forming a long shard of bone. Letting go of the vampire, he took a few tentative steps towards the source of the noise, hostility burning in his aura.

But he was stopped by a frantic tug on his sleeve. Irritated, he turned to regard the vampire with furious contempt. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, beneath his breath.

“w-wait…” the vampire’s voice had dwindled to a terrified whisper.

 

_violence, death, killin’—it’s a game ta them. life means nothin’ ta vampires. given the chance, they’d massacre an entire village just fer the fun of it._

 

Edge stared at the vampire; its eyes were wide and desperate, its hand shaking where it was still clasped around Edge’s arm. “don’t kill it—please.”


	5. Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge's return home isn't exactly pleasant, and the vampire continues to surprise him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mildly graphic depictions of violence (probably not as graphic as the last chapter) and derogatory language.

_it’s the bloodlust. makes ‘em lose control. an’ they love it._

The vampire had a frantic look about it, its grip on Edge’s arm tightening. “please—you don’t have to kill it. we can just… t-tell it we’re travellers, or—”

“Give me my knife.” Edge held the vampire with a cold stare, prying its hand off his arm. It winced, fingers shaking as Edge released it. It looked astoundingly… pathetic.

“i—edge, please—”

“ _Give me my knife_ ,” Edge repeated, a warning growl slipping into his voice. Trembling, the vampire reached into its inventory and withdrew the silver blade. It wrapped its sleeve over its hand as it handed the knife to Edge, avoiding direct contact with the cold metal. Edge took the knife without hesitation, watching the terrified creature for a moment before hilting the blade and marching toward the cluster of trees.

“Reveal yourself,” he called into the forest. The trees remained still, and Edge narrowed his sockets. “I know you’re out there. I would prefer for this not to turn violent.”

A beat of silence, and then a small, croaky voice spoke. “Please—I-I’m not looking for any trouble.”

Edge lifted his head, frowning; the voice sounded familiar. “Nor are we,” he said, carefully. “But I cannot trust the mere word of a faceless stranger. Show yourself if you truly mean us no harm.” There was a rustling of leaves, and then the low hanging branches of the trees parted, a squat, bird-like monster hopping out from behind them. Edge blinked in surprise. “Snowdrake?”

The monster frowned as he observed Edge, his gaze flickering briefly to the vampire. “Who…?” Snowdrake’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned on him. “ _Edge_? You look—d-different.” Snowdrake averted his gaze, but not before Edge felt the familiar prickle of a ‘check’.

“What are you doing this far out in the forest alone?” Edge asked, reaching for a quick change of topic. He wasn’t eager to discuss his new… statistical developments. “Where is your father?”

Snowdrake’s face fell, and he snapped his beak shut and tucked his wings against his side. “He… I haven’t seen him for a while. He left for the Capital and—” Snowdrake broke off, and Edge frowned, nodding. So it was with so many monsters in search of a better fortune. The Capital was rumoured to be a land of promise and prosperity.

Edge knew better than to trust rumours at this point.

Silence fell between them. A cold breeze chilled Edge’s bones and reminded him of his aching injuries. Snowdrake’s feathers bristled as his eyes wandered to the vampire again, lingering on the creature for a few moments before he turned back to Edge. “I could accompany you into town—find you a place to stay. Grillby might have room to spare.”

Edge repressed a scowl. There was little love lost between himself and the fire elemental. He glanced up at the forest canopy. Thin threads of sunlight still filtered between the thick leaves. “That’s not necessary,” Edge told Snowdrake, looking at the vampire over his shoulder. It hadn’t moved, still pressed against the trunk of one of the trees as it watched Edge and Snowdrake warily. “We’ll be able to find our own way into town.”

Snowdrake hopped between his feet, clicking his beak a little. “It’s no trouble,” he assured Edge. Again, he quickly glanced at the vampire, something akin to suspicion in his eyes.

Edge’s fingers twitched towards his knife, the still-fresh EXP flickering in his soul. “No,” he said, stiffly. “Don’t bother yourself.” He held Snowdrake’s gaze steadily—but with enough stern resolve that Snowdrake backed down, nodding.

“Whatever you say, Edge.” His wings fluttered in the light breeze, and he hopped back towards the narrow path winding through the trees. He turned to look over his shoulder. “If ice see you in town, I’ll be sure to say hello.” He released a small squawk of amusement as Edge rolled his eye-lights.

“Be on your way,” he said, dryly, and Snowdrake cackled softly before disappearing into the trees. Edge frowned after him; deep down, he feared that Snowdrake had succumbed to Grillby’s will and fallen into his service. Grillby already had too much influence over the town—so much, in fact, that few monsters could make it by without performing the occasional ‘favour’ for him. And Grillby’s favours were seldom of the pleasant variety.

When Snowdrake was out of sight, Edge turned back to the vampire. It was cautiously following his movements with its eyes. Its… red eyes. The scrutiny of its gaze was almost palpable on Edge’s bones.

He did his best to push the thought of it from his mind as he dug in his inventory for food to replenish his HP. He sat against the trunk of one of the trees as he chewed on the remainder of his stale bread. Though foul in taste, it sent a rejuvenating hum of magic through his bones.

The vampire slid to the cold forest floor, wrapping an arm around its knees. One of its fingers was hooked beneath the collar at its neck. It still watched Edge closely, as if afraid he might snap at any moment. Given the colour of its eyes, Edge couldn’t help but find irony in that. He looked up at it, and it quickly turned away, staring at the ground. “I take it you haven’t eaten anything since that whore from the Silk River Inn?” Edge queried, taking another bite of bread.

The vampire glanced up in surprise as Edge spoke, then slowly shook its head. “no,” it said quietly. “well… other than you.”

No sooner had the words left the vampire’s mouth was it stammering an apology, quickly looking away. Edge felt the bubble of EXP threatening to rise to the surface; but he quickly collected himself, swallowing the bite of bread, before saying, “We’ll have to find you something to eat. I can’t have you ripping through an entire town before we reach the Capital.”

The vampire frowned, raking its fingers through the foliage of the forest floor. The hand at its collar tightened. “i don’t suppose that’s an offer,” it said, sourly.

“It is not,” Edge replied coldly, his soul prickling with disgust. “There are plenty of whores in Snowdin—just try not to kill any of them.”

The vampire looked at Edge, its frown deepening into something almost offended. “i wouldn’t—why would i kill them?”

“Don’t presume me a fool, vampire. I’ve been hunting long enough—I know what your kind are like. I’m not one of those fang-whores you can so easily manipulate.”

The vampire seemed bewildered by Edge’s mere suggestion, its expression turning outraged. “i’m not a killer,” it said shortly.

Edge regarded it dubiously, examining its face; his gaze lingered on its deep crimson eyes, still flecked with gold. “If it weren’t for that collar at your throat, I have no doubt you would have ended my life by now,” he said, his tone dark. “I have little faith in your will to restrain yourself from acting upon your urges, vampire.”

“i can control my urges,” the vampire said through grit teeth. Its hands were curled into fists around the earth, frustration taut in its expression.

“For how long?” Edge questioned, lifting a brow bone.

“long enough to save your fucking life,” the vampire spat, quickly rising to its feet. Edge jumped up as well in anticipation of a fight, his ribs giving a pang of protest. But the vampire merely walked away from him, wandering a few paces down the pine-shrouded path. One of its hands was clenched at its side—the other tight around the collar at its throat. Edge frowned after it, his hand still hovering at his knife.

“we should keep moving,” the vampire said, glancing up at the thin streams of sunlight peeking through the trees high above. It turned to regard Edge spitefully, its eyes narrowing as they fell on his knife. “relax, silver knight. if i’d wanted to kill you, i would’ve done it while you were unconscious.”

While Edge couldn’t argue with that logic, he remained cautious, keeping the vampire within his sights as it roamed further into the trees. He trailed after it, but maintained a reasonable distance, still mindful of how undoubtedly hungry it must be. And yet…

Its seemingly unwavering composure was rather unexpected. Alarming, even. None of the vampires Edge had met in the past had possessed such immeasurable self-control at this point. This vampire barely seemed fazed by Edge’s presence—even with his injuries.

Though Edge was grateful that he was alive, he couldn’t bring himself to contemplate _how._ Something about this vampire left him feeling… off. He watched it weave through the trees ahead, light on its feet as it skirted around the narrow rays of sun that pierced the thick cover of the trees above.

 

_savages. barbarians. bloodthirsty murderers._

 

None of the things Edge had so long associated with vampires seemed to fit this one’s behaviour. He might have boiled it down to deception, but given the deep red of its eyes… Vampires weren’t _supposed_ to be able to keep their hunger tethered at this point. They weren’t _supposed_ to restrain themselves from killing mortal monsters. So what was so different about ~~Rus~~ _this vampire_?

 

****

 

They reached the town just after nightfall, the dark sky shrouded in heavy grey clouds. Edge could smell the early signs of a storm, the air crisp and chilly against his bones. It was late winter, and the snow had begun to melt, leaving the ground damp and muddy.

It had been years since Edge had been home; and somehow, Snowdin was even worse for wear than it had been before his departure. The worn, cobblestone streets were barren of monsters, though Edge caught sound of the occasional whisper or indiscernible muttering as they passed the boarded-up windows of decaying houses. The streetlamps had been left unlit, and Edge caught glimpses of a few dim sets of eyes watching them from the crevices between buildings. He shifted closer to the vampire, keeping a watchful eye on the more secluded corners they passed. A vampire would fetch more than just a few pieces of G—and stars knew some of these monsters were desperate enough to risk attacking even someone of Edge’s regard.

They passed an old pig pen whose fences had been torn down. More than likely, the wood had been salvaged for the harsh winter’s fires. Sometimes, one had to make the choice between warmth and food. Those who chose the latter were either fools, or immune to the chill of winter. These were the dregs of the town’s civilisation, and Edge was all too familiar with them.

As they neared the town’s centre, the streets grew brighter, cleaner, and naturally—busier. Choruses of bawdy laughter sounded from within a few of the smaller taverns they passed. Edge could feel the curious (and often sordid) gazes of strangers on them as they walked. He pressed on, trying to ignore the crawling feeling on his bones.

The town square was buzzing with activity, monsters stumbling out of (or into) Snowdin’s most esteemed taverns. But the centre of much of the excitement, was of course, Grillby’s. The fire elemental owned at least half the town’s sources of revenue, but his own establishment was the most renowned. Unlike most tavern-crossed-bordello owners, Grillby did not keep the two businesses separate. It was truthfully the perfect way to draw in extra clients, and it was well-known that Grillby procured workers of only the highest prestige. (Or indeed, anyone he could manipulate into performing more illicit nightly activities some might deem ‘distasteful’).

Much to their misfortune however, Edge doubted they would be able to find anyone willing to feed a vampire outside of Grillby’s. If they’d had the option, Edge would have ensured they stayed well shy of the fire elemental’s establishment; the last thing he needed was to draw Grillby’s attention to the vampire. He could only hope that their activities would go unnoticed by the busy entrepreneur.

Edge brought them to a halt at the foot of the steps outside Grillby’s. He curled his fingers around the back of the vampire’s collar, tugging at it so that the vampire was forced to tip its head back, baring its throat. “Our stay here will not be long,” Edge murmured next to the vampire’s acoustic meatus. He fell silent as a small group of rowdy monsters bustled past them. He didn’t like the way their gazes wandered to the vampire; perhaps it was his paranoia, but their eyes seemed to linger on it for just a second too long. “You will find someone to eat, you will take what you need, and then we will leave. You will remain inconspicuous, and you will not speak to anyone beyond the whore you acquaint yourself with. Am I understood?”

Stiffly, the vampire nodded, and Edge released its collar, guiding it up the tavern’s steps. It didn’t speak a word as they pushed through the swinging double doors. Immediately, the cloying aroma of incense and musk assaulted Edge’s senses. The air was perfumed and hot, the brothel’s workers wandering freely around the room, approaching various patrons of the tavern and leading them upstairs. The lighting was of a dim plum—no doubt intended to set the sultry mood. Blessedly, Grillby was nowhere in sight, a rabbit monster tending the bar in his stead.

Edge led the vampire across the room to a secluded table. It was right against the wall, giving him a perfect vantage point from which to survey the room while the vampire was… tending to its needs. He sat down, and the vampire regarded him with amusement, gesturing broadly at the room. “nothing for you?” it asked, smirking.

Edge gave it a sour look. “I have no interest in demeaning myself,” he said, tersely.

The vampire’s smirk stretched into a grin, and it shrugged. “suit yourself, silver knight,” it said, turning to cross the room. Edge stopped it with a hand on its collar, and it halted, looking down at him with a tilt of its head. “change of heart? you’re more than welcome to join—”

“Perish the thought, heathen,” Edge interrupted, shortly, disgust curling the corners of his mouth. The vampire snickered softly, and Edge narrowed his eye sockets, pulling it down so that their eyes were level. “Don’t forget what I said—make it quick. And if you even _attempt_ to escape—”

The vampire cut Edge off by leaning in close—a little _too_ close for Edge’s peace of mind. “don’t worry, silver knight. i find you far too intriguing to escape from. we’ve barely begun to get to know each other.” The vampire flashed its small fangs with a cocky grin, its scarlet eyes bright and teasing.

And for the life of him, Edge couldn’t bring himself to hold eye-contact. He cast his eyes downward, grimacing—much to the vampire’s amusement, it seemed. At the sound of its light laughter, Edge’s fingers tightened around the collar, and he looked back up, sockets narrowing dangerously. “Be that as it may, you’ll have to forgive me for taking extra precautions.”

The vampire’s laughter died, confusion taking its place on the creature’s face. “extra precautions—?” It broke off with a startled choke as magic trickled from Edge’s fingertips, infusing into the silver workings of the collar. He could feel the vampire trying to pull away, but he held it fast, until he’d seeped as much of his magic into the collar as he could muster. When he finally released the vampire, it yanked away from him sharply, sockets wide with disbelief. “what—what on earth was that—?”

“An extra precaution,” Edge said, smoothly. He couldn’t help but feel a sliver of satisfaction at the stunned expression on the vampire’s face. “Run along now and get something to eat. You’re looking a little pale.”

The vampire only stared at him, bewildered, and Edge had to suppress a self-congratulatory smirk. He thought he caught a glimpse of a cursory smile tugging at the corners of its mouth—before it was gone. The vampire’s cheekbones were a little flushed, but after a quick inhale of breath, it seemed to compose itself. Without so much as another glance in Edge’s direction, the vampire turned, disappearing into the crowd of intoxicated and scantily dressed monsters.

Edge sat still in his seat for a time, trying to force down the sudden rush of magic to his cheekbones. Despite his fleeting victory over the vampire, his chest felt tight around his racing soul, the feeling of the vampire’s proximity still seeming to linger in the air around him. And once more, he felt completely thrown off by the creature’s utter lack of… savagery. Its behaviour was too resemblant of that of a mortal monster—perhaps even possessing a little more finesse than some.

 

_when they get hungry, there’s no stoppin’ ‘em. they’ll rip a monster in half if it means gettin’ ta its magic._

Edge’s fingers curled around the thin wood of the table, his frustration boiling. Nothing about this made sense. There was something _deeply_ wrong with this entire situation. Why wasn’t this vampire behaving like—well, a vampire? Why wasn’t it rabid with hunger? _Why hadn’t it killed him when it’d had the chance?_

Edge breathed, unclenching his fingers. He could ponder on it later. For the moment, he needed to remain focused. A slip up here could land him (and the vampire) in a very undesirable predicament.

He kept a watchful eye on the door at the back of the room. Grillby was likely in his office (and hopefully—preoccupied). Edge hadn’t frequented this establishment much in his time as a resident of Snowdin—stars, he’d avoided it at all costs. Unfortunately, this meant he knew little of the fire elemental’s patterns. He’d have to remain on high alert until the vampire returned.

As time wore on, the brothel became more and more clustered, streams of monsters filtering in through the front door. The air seemed to grow somehow thicker, and Edge soon found himself stifled by the heady atmosphere of sex and intoxication. He was approached more than once by various workers of the brothel, only to turn them down with averted eyes and blushing cheekbones.

When a monster slid into the seat opposite him, Edge kept his eyes downcast, muttering a cursory, “Not interested,” without meeting its gaze.

To his surprise however, the monster only met him with a harsh, throaty chuckle. “’fraid ya don’ have much of a choice, Edgy dearie.”

Immediately, Edge’s gaze snapped up, his sockets widening. The nickname was all too familiar, and left a sick bristling feeling on his bones—it was the name Muffet had used for him in his time in Hotland. The monster sitting before him was a Pyrope, and the grin that twisted its flaming face told Edge it wasn’t here for polite conversation. “Nice ta see ya, love,” it crackled, bouncing a little in its seat. “Bit hot in here, ain’ it?”

“What do you want?” Edge asked, brusquely, his knuckles curling into fists.

The Pyrope chuckled roughly, flames flickering around its teeth. “Aw, no ‘ello kiss, Edgy?” When Edge met it with nothing but cold silence, it laughed again. “Muff’s gettin’ impatient, love. Ya know she doesn’ like ta be kept waitin’—an’ she wasn’t impressed by yer stunt with the Froggit.”

Internally, Edge scolded himself for being so impulsive. There was little Muffet let slip, and denying her payment was a sure-fire way to earn himself a target on his back. Still, he remained placid for the sake of appearances, folding his hands stiffly on the table. “If she wanted the trade to ensue amicably, she shouldn’t have changed the terms without informing me,” he said, coolly.

The Pyrope merely shrugged. “’ey, love, I’m just the messenger.”

“You recall what happened to Muffet’s last ‘messenger’, do you not?”

Chuckling, the Pyrope rose from its seat, shooting Edge a grin. “Yer pretty funny, sweetheart. I can see why th’ spider likes ya. Eh, well. Take my advice—don’—‘s not really my problem.” It stretched the coils of its body, flames dancing around it as it turned. “Hah. You westerners sure do know how ta light a place up. Think I’m gonna go catch myself a lay.” It cast Edge a final grin. “See ya soon, Edgy dearie.”

Edge stiffened, his fingers reflexively clenching where they were rested on the table. Cackling, the Pyrope disappeared into the crowd, leaving a trail of cinders in its wake. Edge sat stiffly for a few minutes, his shoulders tense and his magic buzzing and alert; every bone in his body felt hotter than it had any right to be, the stifling air of the tavern and its aromatic workers clogging his nasal cavity.

Movement behind the bar caught his attention, and his eyes flickered up in time for him to see the door to Grillby’s office opening. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the door in anticipation—but the monster who emerged was not who he’d been expecting.

Snowdrake looked a little ruffled as he hurried out of Grillby’s office, his head bowed, and his wings tucked against his sides. He barely spared the room a glance before he was out the front door, as if there was no place he’d less like to be.

Edge’s soul seemed to have stopped. What business could Snowdrake possibly have with Grillby? He had _seen_ the vampire; and no doubt the vampire had captured his interest—it wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

Edge watched Grillby’s office door, but the fire elemental did not emerge. He thrummed his fingers on the table anxiously, before coming to a snap decision and standing. The vampire had been gone too long already. Edge cursed himself for becoming distracted. They’d lingered here too long—it was likely Grillby was already aware of their presence.

Pushing through the uncomfortably hot crowd of monsters, Edge made for the stairs, hurrying up to the second-landing, where he was met with the stares of dozens of workers and patrons alike. Edge pushed their scrutiny from his mind, crossing the room and passing through a large purple archway, which lead him onto a long corridor lined with at least fifty doors. It occurred to him in that moment, that he in no way had enough time to search each and every room in the establishment for the vampire—not to mention, many of these rooms were likely occupied.

His soul was pounding in his ribcage, as if trying to alert him to the fact that he was wasting time. He tried to ease his nerves for a moment, closing his eyes and reaching out with his magic. With the traces of magic he’d left in the vampire’s collar, finding it shouldn’t be difficult if he could just get himself to _focus._

It took a few moments of trained composure before Edge began to feel a flicker of something down the corridor and off to the right. The pulse of magic grew stronger as he hurried forward, and before long, he’d reached a violet door. Ignoring the twinge of pain in his ribs, he threw it open, the heavy scent of magic and perfume assaulting his senses as he entered the room. “Rus, are you—”

Edge froze in the doorway. The room was empty.

The curtains were open, streetlamps flickering from the town below. A glint of silver caught Edge’s eye, and he rushed over to the windowsill to find the vampire’s silver collar—unclasped. He picked it up, horror dawning on him. It was impossible for the vampire to remove the collar itself… which meant someone else had done it. The metal studs felt warm beneath his fingertips.

Edge spared only a moment to store the collar in his inventory before he was racing back out of the room. He pushed past monsters as he rushed down the corridor, ignoring the stares and surprised gasps as he shoved his way through the workers and their clients in the front room. Only when he reached the foot of the stairs to the tavern, did he come to a halt, gritting his teeth against the ache of his ribs.

He regarded the room with narrowed sockets; a haze of violet smoke seemed to cloud the air, its sugary scent almost suffocating. Edge squeezed through the crowd towards the bar, magic already burning at the tips of his fingers. The rabbit monster tending the bar turned as Edge yanked open the door to Grillby’s office; but he barely heard its shout of protest before he was inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

The air in the office was more oppressive than anywhere else in the establishment. Edge felt as if his bones were alight, heat and magic almost wet in the air. Shelves of alcohol and strange derivatives of oil products lined the walls, and braziers of flickering magenta flames burned in the corners. In the centre of the room sat a dark oaken desk, and behind the desk—a violet fire elemental.

Grillby, wreathed in purple flames and adorned with heavy golden jewellery, had his hands folded on the desk. Opposite him, the vampire was seated, slouched back in the chair, and seemingly—to Edge’s utter confoundment—completely at ease.

Something wasn’t right.

Grillby’s crackling mouth stretched into a smile as Edge entered, and he stood, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Edge, how lovely of you to join us.”

The vampire turned in its seat to look at Edge. Though a smile stretched its mouth, there was something cautionary in its eyes—now a cool gold, Edge was thankful to see. At the very least, it had managed to feed before being discovered. (Edge pushed back the thought that told him Grillby may have intercepted it _during_ the feeding process.)

“hello, silver knight,” the vampire said. “your friend and i were just discussing you.” Edge narrowed his eye sockets. There was something very calculated about the vampire’s expression, as if it were trying to communicate something to Edge without speaking.

Grillby’s laughter drew the vampire’s gaze away from Edge; the elemental had rounded the table to stand beside the vampire, placing a burning hand on its shoulder. “In non-explicit terms, I assure you. Merely an arrangement of business.”

Edge watched Grillby carefully, gauging his every movement. ‘Business’ was no casual matter when it came to Grillby, and through the elemental’s narrow glasses, Edge could see an almost excited look in his burning white eyes. “I don’t doubt it,” Edge said, his tone painstakingly even. “Though, I’m afraid we can’t stay much longer. We have our own matters to attend to.” Edge’s eyes wandered to the vampire, who had gone stiff beneath Grillby’s firm grip.

“Ah. Well, that is certainly a shame,” Grillby said, curling both his hands over the vampire’s shoulders. Edge noticed a visible shift in his demeanour—the flames swathing his body had become brighter and more erratic, and his posture was defensive, his grasp tight on the vampire’s shoulders. “I was hoping we could come to a civil agreement.”

Edge was silent, unwavering as he watched Grillby. Tension was thick in the hot air. Edge’s hands clenched slowly into fists as magic flowed readily to his palms, prickling at the tips of his fingers. The vampire was no longer smiling. The terror in its eyes was plain, and its hands trembled where they lay stiffly on the chair’s arms.

“Perhaps we can,” Edge said, taking a daring step forward. Grillby’s flames crackled, and his hands flexed on the vampire’s shoulders. Edge halted, steeling his expression. “Or, perhaps not.”

The sudden change in Grillby’s body language was harsh and apparent. When Edge crept forward another step, Grillby yanked the vampire from the chair, pulling it hard against his chest with an arm across its throat. A startled choke escaped it, and it struggled against Grillby’s grip, kicking its feet and wincing as Grillby’s flames licked at its bones. But Grillby’s hold was relentless, his perilous stare fixed on Edge, who stood frozen, just a few feet away.

“You know, Edge,” Grillby said, his voice unsettlingly blasé given the situation, “I always took you for a fairly intelligent monster—but I see now that I was mistaken. After all, what kind of fool tries to sneak a vampire through Snowdin—passing right through my very own establishment, no less?”

The heat in the air was almost unbearable, fire spitting from Grillby’s form like burning rain. The vampire’s struggles had become desperate, the hot cinders lashing against its neck and face. Edge tried to keep his magic tethered, but instinct had already driven him to form a long shard of serrated bone. He held the weapon steadily at his side, meeting Grillby’s gaze with earnest composure. “Grillby, I know you’re a reasonable person… the vampire is far more useful to you alive.” Edge’s eyes flickered momentarily to the vampire, who was staring at him with frantic panic. “Let him go,” Edge said, his voice low and calm. “You’re hurting him.”

There was something almost furious in Grillby’s eyes as he watched Edge, and he seemed to have all but forgotten the vampire, clinging to it roughly despite its pained whimpers. “Always the voice of reason, aren’t you?” Grillby spat. “Undyne’s favourite. The townspeople just _loved_ you, didn’t they? I wonder how much they’d pay to fuck you.”

Nausea built in Edge’s chest, but he swallowed it down, inching forward with his weapon poised and ready. “You two do make a delicious pair after all,” Grillby went on, his mouth stretching into a lurid grin as he glanced at the vampire. “This world is full of plenty a twisted soul who would pay handsomely for the opportunity to fuck a vampire. Especially one bearing such striking resemblance to their _favourite_ little whore.” The last part was uttered with a sneer in Edge’s direction, and Edge came to realise that Grillby’s hatred of him ran too deep for negotiations to ensue peacefully.

He closed the distance between them, holding his spiked attack before him in warning. “Let him go, or I won’t hesitate to cut you apart,” he growled, his voice low with the threat of his words.

But Grillby seemed unconcerned, pulling the vampire closer, brandishing it as a shield between himself and Edge. “You seem fond of your pet,” Grillby said, his fingers curling around the vampire’s neck and extracting a gargled cry of agony from the creature. “It would be a true shame to waste such a valuable prize—no doubt the King has offered you a fair price for him.” Seeming almost unaware of the vampire’s utter distress, Grillby stroked his fingers delicately over its vertebrae, flames catching on the smooth bones, and making the vampire sob. Grillby looked back up at Edge complacently. “You won’t bring him any harm.”

Looking back, Edge couldn’t quite determine whether it was spite or desperation that made him snap. But instinct took over, and without hesitation, he lunged forward, driving his long, razor shard of bone straight through the vampire’s ribcage—and into Grillby’s chest.

Combined cries of horror and pain filled the air as the attack pierced bone and fiery flesh. Edge dispelled the magic quickly, catching the vampire as it stumbled into him, clutching desperately to his arms. Grillby staggered backwards, collapsing onto the floor as hot, violet magma leaked from his wound. Edge was given only a moment to process the fury in Grillby’s eyes before the world was spinning around him, Grillby’s office vanishing into a whirl of colours and confusion.

After but a few moments, Edge felt his feet slam into the ground, the jolting sensation reminding him painfully of his injuries. He stumbled slightly, the vampire still clinging to him. Slowly gaining his bearings, he blinked, looking around. They were somewhere near the outskirts of the town, the dark trees of Snowdin Forest looming a few hundred yards behind them. It had started to drizzle, the streets wet with mud and melting snow. Though there seemed to be no one around, Edge was quick to guide the vampire off the street, leading it into the shadows of a dark alley between two abandoned buildings.

The vampire hung onto Edge, magic slowly soaking through its shirt and staining the fabric dark red. “you—ah…” It looked up at Edge in anguish. “you fucking stabbed me!”

Edge was inclined to roll his eyes, but he knew the accusation was fair. Inhaling stiffly, he said, “Relax. I knew it wouldn’t kill you. I got us out of there, didn’t I?”

“ _i_ got us out of there,” the vampire argued, indignant. It groaned, doubling over with its arms wrapped around its torso.

“Yes… you did.” Edge frowned, holding it steady. He was tempted to question the vampire as to _why_ it hadn’t informed him of its ability to teleport—but it occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly given it much reason to trust him with such information. He glanced around to make sure there were no eyes on them, before guiding the vampire further down the alley. “Come on, we need to get under cover before we’re discovered.”

The vampire conceded to allow Edge to half-drag it deeper into the darkness of the street, its breathing ragged. By the time they had reached the rotting wooden stable wedged into a corner of the alley, Edge was all but carrying the vampire. He carefully manoeuvred it inside, laying it atop the bed of damp straw that covered the ground.

The smell was deplorable, but Edge almost found comfort in the familiarity of it. Though old, and long abandoned, the stable still looked much the same as it had years ago. The irony of being here now—in the place where his training had begun—with a living vampire in his presence, almost drew a laugh from Edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually going to have to ask you guys if you think I need to add the Graphic Depictions of Violence tag to the warnings. I honestly have no threshold when it comes to violence, so I cannot tell if I've gone too far.


	6. A crack in the mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The uncomfortable past comes creeping back as Rus begins to lose control of his hunger.  
> Thankfully, Edge has a solution to the situation. A solution... perhaps a little more intimate than he realises--and one that calls for a softer approach.   
> Rus begins to see the more broken side of his captor. And the familiarity, while jarring, is somewhat comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Anxiety around feeding, borderline panic attack, eating disorder, implied violence, mild blood. 
> 
> There is an additional warning in the end notes which may spoil the chapter. It gives an indication of the general 'vibe' of the chapter, as there are some uncomfortable elements to it that I'd rather mention just to be safe.

Rus jolted awake, his bones searing hot and pain lancing down his spine. His eyes were still adjusting to the blinding light creeping through the cracks in the stable door, but he could smell the magic of another monster nearby. Panicking, he tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a heavy hand on his chest, which had been stripped bare. “You’re okay,” a rough voice said. “Stay still—you’re only going to make it worse if you fight me, vampire.”

Rus fought against the hold, but his limbs felt like paper, and the magic in his bones was scarce and sluggish. He relinquished his struggles, slumping back onto the damp straw. He squeezed his sockets closed against the burning daylight, wincing sharply as something brushed over his cervical vertebrae. “ah—it’s… b-burning,” he hissed, forcing back tears. “edge…”

“I know,” Edge said softly, sounding solemn. “Just—hold still. This won’t take long.”

Rus whimpered as Edge’s fingers curled delicately around his neck. Blistering heat flared in the magic beneath his bones, and he clenched his teeth to fight back a sob. He heard Edge sigh deeply, then a tingle of cool magic spread across his vertebrae, seeping between the crevices and into the sensitive ridges of cartilage and magic.

Rus groaned as Edge placed a hand over his throbbing ribs, tears leaking from his eye sockets. “edge—it hurts… p-please…”

“I know—I-I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” Edge sounded unusually discomposed—a startling contrast to his typical stoic demeanour. And perhaps even more strange was the care and delicacy with which his hands moved over Rus. His fingers were light and soothing on Rus’s neck, the magic charged with benevolence. “Relax,” he breathed, his fingers moving over Rus’s ribs in soft strokes as he fed healing magic into the fractured bone. “It’ll be okay, just—deep breaths.”

The pain gradually began to subside, and the burning faded to a pleasantly cool tingle as Edge’s magic permeated the scorched surface of Rus’s vertebrae. A calm haze began to overtake Rus’s mind, and he melted beneath Edge’s touch, his body going limp. He could hear Edge’s deep, steady breathing as he concentrated on focusing his magic. There was a tenderness to Edge’s intent, and an involuntary hum of pleasure rose through Rus’s chest.

The scent of Edge’s magic was heavy in the air—cloying and warm. Unbidden, Rus felt his fangs extending, a sudden surge of hunger igniting in his soul. But Edge seemed not to notice, the flow of his magic unceasing. Rus could feel his restraint dwindling under the intoxicating influence of Edge’s magic, but the tranquilising effects rendered him virtually immobile. “edge…” he whispered, his voice low and sluggish. “edge… stop.”

The flow of magic didn’t recede. Rus dared a glance at Edge—his eyes were closed, an almost entranced expression on his face as he concentrated on feeding magic into Rus’s wounds. Ecstasy washed over Rus as the tension and pain bled from his bones—but he could feel his urge to feed growing stronger as the potency of Edge’s magic increased. He began to panic. “edge—” he half-choked, a desperate whine slipping into his voice. “ _stop._ ”

Edge opened his eyes, and immediately froze as his gaze landed on Rus’s extended fangs. Horrified, he scrambled backward, the pleasant haze of his magic fading from Rus’s injuries. Fighting the pain of his wounds, Rus pulled himself up, leaning against the stable wall. He pressed his face against the rotting wood, trying to drown out the scent of Edge’s magic, which still perfumed the air. “don’t come near me,” he groaned, digging his fingers into his femur to try and distract himself.

“What—what happened?” Edge asked, sounding frantic. “Why are you—?”

“your magic,” Rus gasped, clenching his teeth with a suppressed growl. “i can—i can _smell_ it.” He clung to the wooden beam secured across the wall, his fingers scraping against it. “fuck—you smell so good, edge,” he rasped. “why did you have to—” He bit back his words and tried to hold his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Edge’s hand resting on his knife. “use it—if you have to,” Rus breathed, trying to ignore the heavy _thump_ of Edge’s soul in his ear canals.

It had been years since Rus had felt hunger like this, and he’d long since trained himself to repress the urges that came with it. But he was familiar with it. He would never forget the feeling, or the loss of control that accompanied such a level of famishment. A dull, burning ache coursed his bones—urging him to quench the pain with Edge’s magic. His ribs felt worn and brittle, and the burns at his neck throbbed at every catch of Edge’s scent in the air.

“Rus…”

“stay away from me!” Rus hissed, pressing himself against the wall, and trying to bury his face in the musky wood. “d—don’t come near me, please.”

“What can I do?” Edge asked, quietly.

“i-i don’t know,” Rus stammered, a whine building in his chest. “your magic it—it smells so good. edge i—” Rus’s voice cracked on a broken whimper. “i d-don’t know if i can control—”

Rus broke off with a yelp as he felt Edge’s hand on his shoulder. A carnal growl built in his throat as Edge’s scent flooded his senses, and his body shook with the effort it took to restrain himself. “what the _fuck_ are you doing?” he snarled, desperately trying to scramble away. “don’t—don’t—edge—!”

“Oh, relax,” Edge said, his voice unsettlingly calm. “You’re hardly the most proficient vampire I’ve encountered—I’m certain I can handle you.” Rus groaned as Edge crouched beside him, the consuming scent of his magic inducing a fresh burst of white hot pain in Rus’s bones. A wretched cry escaped him as he felt Edge clip the familiar silver collar around his neck. Immediately, his limbs went slack, the silver draining him of what little strength he had remaining.

Edge supported his head as he slumped to the stable floor, weak sobs still falling from his mouth. “You’re okay,” Edge murmured, as he rested Rus on his back, kneeling beside him and examining him. Though Rus’s vision had become clouded, he could detect the concern in Edge’s expression, his brow-bones creased. He shuddered as Edge’s fingers traced the length of his cracked ribs. The touch sent a ripple of pain through him, but he felt too fragile to muster the strength to pull away. When Edge’s fingers moved to his neck, grazing the singed bones, Rus winced, closing his eyes as heavy tears began to fall.

When at last Edge withdrew, he looked troubled. Sighing heavily, he stood, regarding Rus solemnly. “I need to find you something to eat,” he said with reluctant resolve. “You need magic before you can start healing. Fresh magic. I won’t be able to heal you.”

“no…” Rus protested weakly, panic arising. “no—edge, not now. i’m n-not in control—i won’t be able to stop!”

“Bloody hell, Rus—you’re a fucking _vampire._ Start acting like one,” Edge snapped, brushing the debris from his pants. “I’ll be back soon.”

Rus sobbed brokenly, too weak to try and stop Edge. “please don’t leave me—i-it hurts, edge. please…”

For a brief moment, something akin to sympathy flickered across Edge’s expression. But it disappeared quickly, his cool stoical mask returning. “I know it hurts. I won’t be long. Don’t move.”

“edge—wait…” But Rus’s faint protests did him no good. Edge left swiftly, barring the stable door behind him, and leaving Rus alone on the damp ground.

Though the smell of magic wasn’t so thick in the air with Edge gone—Rus could still detect lingering hints of it. His soul clenched uncomfortably, a pulse of pain reminding him of his hunger. With the silver around his neck, he was no threat, at least. But agony still wrenched his entire body—a burning hot hunger squeezing his soul in a vice-like grip.

 

_Remember what I told you, Papyrus? Stop. Breathe. Think._

 

Rus crawled closer to the stable wall, pressing his cheekbone against the cold wood. Outside, it had started to drizzle, the soft patter of raindrops echoing off the roof. Rus tried to focus on the sound, breathing deeply and letting his eyes fall closed.

A persistent pulse in his chest broke him out of his momentary daze, and he clenched his teeth, clinging tightly to the stable wall. Even with Edge (and his enticing magic) out of the vicinity, Rus could feel himself spiralling, his body yearning for the hot magic of another monster. “why _now?_ ” he whispered to himself, his breath catching on a sob. Frustration boiled with the hunger, and a low growl built in Rus’s throat.

 

_I know you’re not going to lose control. You’re strong, Papy. I know you are._

Rus inhaled, the cold winter air flooding his chest cavity and dispelling the remnants of Edge’s scent. His grip tightened around the beam of the stable wall, fingers clawing into the wood. “y-you’re in control,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “you’re in control. you’re—” His voice cracked on a sob, and he curled in on himself, pressing a hand over his mouth.

He was alone. Utterly alone in a foreign land with no one to catch him when he was toppling so dangerously close to the edge. The last shreds of his control were rapidly diminishing, giving way to the hunger that he worked so hard to keep buried.

 

_Don’t give up. Don’t let go. You’re in control. You’re strong._

“i’m— _not,_ ” Rus whimpered to the uncaring rain. “i can’t…” He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, resting his head against the damp wood. Dull throbs of pain reminded him of his slowly bleeding ribs, the ache mingled with the burn at his neck and in his throat.

Rus couldn’t be certain how long he lay there, his body throbbing dully and his soul and chest tight with the ravenous need for magic—but when Edge returned, his scent brought a mingle of relief and panic. Rus jolted upright when the stable door creaked open, immediately alert. Edge’s scent wasn’t the only one that permeated the air around him.

“e-edge…” Rus trembled, trying to draw himself closer to the wall. “who…?” Rus felt his chest give an unwelcome clench when the second monster emerged behind Edge—or rather, was dragged in. It was Snowdrake.

Feathers ruffled and muddy, the creature writhed in Edge’s grip, squawking and screeching frantically. His glossy yellow eyes widened in terror as his gaze fell on Rus, and his struggles renewed at twice the effort. “No! No, don’t!” Snowdrake screeched as Edge pulled the stable door shut behind them, the space growing dim.

Huffing irritably, Edge tossed Snowdrake to the ground, pressing the toe of his boot against his wing to trap him. Rus could see streaks of spent magic and blood on the creature’s feathers. He shuddered and drew his knees to his chest, holding the back of his sleeve over his face to try and stifle the tantalising smell of hot magic.

Edge was regarding Snowdrake with dispassion; he looked almost bored, his expression dull. Sighing—as if it weren’t worth the effort—he summoned a sharp-tipped bone and buried it in the Snowdrake’s wing, pinning it to the ground. Snowdrake shrieked, writhing beneath the construct ineffectually. A mild whimper built in Rus’s throat and he looked away, keeping his mouth and nasal cavity firmly covered. But the scent of fresh magic still crept through, and a hot pulse of hunger squeezed at his soul.

Edge was surveying him earnestly, frustration creeping across his face. “Well? Eat.” He indicated Snowdrake, who was struggling desperately beneath the construct that impaled it. “I’d rather not have to do this, but as it so happens, your life is valuable to me.” Edge looked down at Snowdrake, and for the briefest of moments, pity flitted across his expression. “This monster… not quite so much. A friend of Grillby’s is no friend of mine.”

Staring up at Edge, Snowdrake shook his head wildly. “I didn’t! He—he made me! And I— _please._ Edge. Don’t…” He looked fearfully at Rus, his feathers quivering as more of his magic trickled onto the straw covering the ground.

Rus hardly felt as intimidating as Snowdrake was taking him to be. His bones were rattling audibly, and tears brimmed at the corners of his eye sockets. Through the painful ringing in his ear canals, and the loud thumping of the two mortal monsters’ souls, he could hear himself whimpering.

Edge was regarding him disdainfully, a concerned frown slowly ebbing its way onto his features. “He turned you in to Grillby,” Edge told Rus, firmly. “Doesn’t that make you angry? Just—take what you need from him and be done with it!” Impatience laced Edge’s voice, his sockets narrowed as his eye-lights darted between Rus and Snowdrake.

Inhaling harshly, Rus shook his head, pressing his face against his arms, which were folded over his knees. “d-don’t make me,” he sobbed, squeezing his eye sockets closed. “i c-can’t—i’m not in control. i’m weak. i—” An unsteady gasp shook Rus’s chest and he broke off. Everything hurt. Along with the physical pain of his wounds and his hunger, his chest felt tight around his soul. He recognised the symptoms of his old pre-feeding panic all too well.

 

_Papy, it’s okay. Remember what to do? Stop. Breathe. Think._

Edge looked confounded, staring at Rus incredulously. “What on earth are you talking about, vampire? You need magic! You can’t—you can’t _starve_ yourself.” Prying the construct of bone from Snowdrake’s wing, he yanked the creature to his feet, ignoring his fluttering and harsh croaks of terror as he tried to struggle free.

Rus recoiled as Edge approached, dragging Snowdrake with him. “Vampire—” Edge inhaled stiffly, crouching in front of Rus. “Your wounds aren’t healing. And they won’t—unless you ingest magic directly. I can’t have you dying. I… I need you.” Holding Snowdrake still, he pushed him towards Rus. “Feed. You only need a little. It’s…” Looking pained, Edge breathed in, closing his eyes and muttering something silent beneath his breath. “It’s for the best.”

“d-don’t make, edge…” Rus’s face was wet with tears. He clung to himself, uncontrollable sobs wracking his chest. He stared Edge in the eye, pleading. “please—i _can’t._ i can’t. i’ll hurt him—i’ll kill him! don’t make me do it, edge! _please._ ” Rus’s breath caught in his throat and he dug his fingers into his arms. His throat was searing with hot, hungry pain, and his ribs throbbed unbearably.

_Magic._ His body urged him to take what he needed from Snowdrake. The creature’s essence was so warm and delicious in the air, Rus could practically taste it. His soul burned—hot as fire, yet so cold and empty. Though he’d fed only yesterday, his body recalled nothing—nothing but the desperate urge to _feed._

_Stop. Breathe. Think._

Rus’s fangs itched, his mouth producing tasteless saliva as he watched Snowdrake writhing frantically. Magic dripped onto the straw at his feet. All he had to do was reach out, and…

 

_You’re in control, Papyrus._

“ _no,_ ” he gasped, scrambling away from Snowdrake. “no, i—i can’t! i won’t do it. i… edge…” Rus looked at the hunter—the monster who had brought him here. The cause of his downward spiral. He was frowning, his expression a mingle of bewilderment and… sympathy? He watched Rus closely, his crimson eye-lights following each of his miniscule movements.

Sighing, Edge manhandled Snowdrake to a far corner of the stable—away from Rus. Opening his inventory and withdrawing a bundle of rope, Edge tied Snowdrake to a beam attaching the wall and ceiling. Rus watched, confused and anxious. His bones still shook, spikes of pain shooting through his ribs and neck.

He quivered beneath Edge’s gaze when he approached. His expression was neutral, cold, unreadable. He looked strained—something almost troubled in his eyes. Standing over Rus, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, inhaling deeply. Rus’s eyes strayed to the bones of his neck. He could see the magic infused into each vertebra, coursing between them, the network holding his bones together.

Slowly, Edge crouched in front of Rus. His hand hovered over the hilt at his belt, but his knife remained sheathed. He looked at Rus directly, firm resolve in his eyes. “Feed from me,” he said, tightly.

Rus stared at him, inching away. “w-what?”

“I said _feed_ from me,” Edge snapped. “You need magic, and you won’t take it from someone who isn’t willing to offer it to you—so I’m offering. Take it.” Edge looked grim. His features were contorted into a foul grimace, as if the very idea of having Rus’s fangs anywhere near him made him ill. (It probably did, Rus supposed).

Rus trembled, his fingers twisting in his shirt. It was becoming increasingly difficult to refuse what was being granted to him—especially with the continual amplifying of his pain, and the accompanying burn of hunger. But his control was wasting away, and Rus didn’t trust himself not to snap. “i—i’ll hurt you,” he whispered.

Edge sighed irritably, rolling his eye-lights. “You won’t, vampire. I won’t allow you to.” He slid his silver knife from its sheath, gripping it in his fist and poising it, ready to strike. “If you try…”

Rus remained unconvinced, shaking his head as fresh tears leaked from his eye sockets. “i— _can’t,_ edge. i’m not in control. i won’t be able to—”

“Stop telling yourself that,” Edge said, sharply. He levelled Rus with a penetrating stare, his sockets narrowed. “Stop relinquishing yourself to these ridiculous doubts. I saw you yesterday—you didn’t lay a fang on me. An unconscious, wounded monster—and after days without magic.” Edge gripped Rus’s arm as he shook his head and tried to turn away, fresh sobs and protests building in his throat.

“Look at me,” Edge said, vehemently. His gaze was fierce and earnest, his eye-lights almost flaring. “I need you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and take my bloody magic, Rus. You need it—and I need you alive.”

Rus was startled by Edge’s use of his name. For a few stunned moments, he could only stare at him, his arm still quivering in his grasp. Knife still held carefully in his right hand, Edge used the other one to tug his scarf away from his neck. Rus’s soul throbbed eagerly at the sight of it.

Skeleton monsters were a little different from fleshier monsters. Their magic was far more tangible on the surface. It was visible through the cracks and joints of their bones, the essence of the supportive matrix bright and strong.

Unwittingly, Rus leaned forward as the smell of it overwhelmed his senses. Edge was holding him at arm’s length, but Rus could feel his grip loosening. “That’s it,” he murmured as Rus moved closer. “Take what you need—but don’t forget…” Edge held the silver blade close to Rus’s throat—more a warning than anything, but Rus still flinched. “Remember to stop. Killing you would be a great inconvenience.”

Rus’s hands were still trembling. He hesitated a few inches away from Edge, doubts and fears resurfacing. A shaky sob built in his throat and he began to draw back, but Edge firmly took hold of both his shoulders. “You can do this—you _need_ to do this.” He refused to release Rus’s gaze, his eyes boring into him. Yet there was a gentleness to the look on his face—something steady and reassuring.

A sharp prickle of pain across his ribs, and Rus surrendered to his hunger. Cupping the back of Edge’s neck, he leaned in and sunk his teeth into the solid bone. Edge hissed sharply as Rus’s fangs pierced the bone with a soft _crack._ Rus drank tentatively. Even in the depths of his hunger, he clung to control.

 

_You’re in control. You’re strong._

Edge cradled the back of his skull and held him in place. Rus could feel the point of the knife hovering a few mere centimetres from his neck, but he pushed the knowledge of it from his thoughts. Edge’s hot magic flooded his mouth, and he sighed, drinking it in. Rus could feel his soul filling with magic where it floated a few inches from his chest. It coursed his body and filled the cracks and fissures splitting his ribs. The uncomfortable burn at his neck gradually subsided—as did the yearning throbs in his soul.

 

_Stop._

Rus broke away abruptly, falling back against the stable wall. He wiped Edge’s spent magic from his teeth, blushing. Edge remained where he was for a few lingering moments, looking slightly dazed. Rus tried not to consider the thoughts that might be going through Edge’s head. He knew full well the effects vampire venom tended to have on mortals—especially on those who were willing to surrender to its effects.

Thankfully, Edge seemed to break out of his momentary trance quickly, blinking at Rus before standing. He wiped the trickle of magic from his neck before rearranging his scarf. His cheekbones were flushed, but he appeared composed. He observed Rus carefully, his eye-lights flickering to his injured ribs. “Better?” he asked, his tone bearing a note of strain.

Rus nodded, a little sheepish. He could feel Edge’s hot magic churning in his soul; it certainly felt a lot better than it had the last time he’d fed from him. Still, there was something intimate about having the magic of another monster within you, and Rus was having difficulty keeping his emotions reserved.

By all appearances, Edge was having no such troubles. Dusting the dirt from his pants, he approached Snowdrake, whose feathers were still quivering fearfully. For the most part though, he seemed grateful that he hadn’t been the target of Rus’s hunger. “Now, what am I to do with you?” Edge considered, observing Snowdrake thoughtfully. “I can’t very well release you—you’ll go running straight to Grillby, and there are still a few hours of daylight remaining.” His eyes flickered to Rus, and his sockets narrowed. “I suppose I could kill you, since the vampire has no interest in you…”

“No!” Snowdrake cried, wings fluttering frantically as he tried to scramble away from Edge, only to be hindered by the bonds securing him to the stable wall. “Please—I w-won’t tell Grillby! I won’t!”

“Relax,” Edge said. “I’m not killing you, Snowdrake. For the sake of our past friendship.” Remorse crossed Edge’s features briefly, before his stoical mask returned. “I cannot let your betrayal slide, however. I believe you owe us a favour.”

“Anything!” Snowdrake said, hurriedly. “Anything—I’ll do whatever you want, Edge.” He shrank away as Edge stepped forward, dipping his head. “P-please… I have nothing. Grillby was—he’s the only thing keeping me alive! I can’t… I don’t know what I’ll do if…” Snowdrake broke off with a hitched sob as Edge lifted his chin, looking him in the eye.

“Help us get out of town,” he said, calmly. “Get us past Grillby’s guards—you must know where they’re stationed. I have little doubt you’ve grown used to sneaking around. I ask that you assist us in doing the same. Help us—and I’ll help you.” Edge’s features creased with sorrow, and he sighed, pinching his nasal bridge. “I’m… sorry, Snowy. This—you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve… someone like Grillby.”

Rus noticed the way Edge’s shoulders seemed to sink, a sudden weariness about him. He was tired, an invisible burden weighing on him. There was a crack in his mask, and beneath it—something painful. Rus found it almost fascinating, but the sight made him… uncomfortable. He recognised the look. It was all too familiar.

“I want to help you,” Edge told Snowdrake. “But I can’t trust you—not after what you did. I need your reassurance that you won’t betray my confidence in you.”

“E-Edge… I wouldn’t—”

“But you _have,_ ” Edge said sharply, his eye-lights darkening in anger. “You knew exactly what consequences your actions would have, yet you informed Grillby of our presence anyway. Forgive me, Snowdrake, but I cannot—and will not—trust you so easily. And if you refuse to help us, then…” Edge held his breath, swallowing, and Rus caught another glimmer of that burden—that _pain—_ in his expression. “I don’t want to have to do that, Snowy,” Edge said, quietly. “What reassurances can you provide me? How do I know you won’t betray us again?”

Snowdrake looked at a loss, his beak tightening and his expression sinking. “Edge, I… I have n-nothing. You know that. I can’t… there’s nothing I can offer you but my word…”

Edge inhaled stiffly, nodding. “Very well.” He turned, looking at Rus. His features were hard and painstakingly neutral. “If you do not cooperate, the vampire will drain you of every drop of magic you possess.”

The words were spoken with such rigid apathy, that Rus almost didn’t register them for a second. Edge’s stare was piercing and firm, and Rus shrunk beneath it. “edge…” His voice emerged a whisper. He shook his head frantically. “n-no, don’t—don’t make me—”

“I’m not making you do anything, vampire,” Edge said, coolly. He held Rus’s gaze deliberately, as if trying to communicate something. “If Snowdrake crosses us however, I doubt you will have much choice.”

Rus stared at Edge, trying to read his expression. Surely, after everything they’d just been through… Rus glanced at Snowdrake. He was watching him intently, fear in his eyes. His feathers were ruffled and quivering and he’d crouched in on himself. Snowdrake was afraid of him, Rus realised—no, he was _terrified._

And Edge was aware of it. Rus looked back at him, then very slowly, nodded. “i-if it comes to that… i will.”

Edge nodded and looked back at Snowdrake. “But it won’t, will it? You’ll help us.”

“Y-yes,” Snowdrake stammered, his eyes not leaving Rus. “I _swear_ it.”

 

Edge offered to remain awake and keep watch for the last few hours of the day, insisting that Rus needed sleep to recover from his wounds. Truthfully, Rus didn’t mind. His bones ached from stress and lack of proper rest—in addition to the copious amount of magic loss he’d suffered. His injured ribs and neck were healing quickly with Edge’s magic within him however. And although the combined scents of two mortal monsters were somewhat overwhelming, Rus’s earlier fretfulness was significantly lessened, now that he’d properly fed.

He made his home in the driest corner of the stable he could find, curling up on the straw and closing his eyes. The cold penetrated his bones, but Rus was used to the feeling. He was seldom warm anymore—much less with this little magic inside him. He wrapped his arms around himself and drew his knees to his chest, huddled tightly for both warmth and comfort.

Rus could hear Edge’s steady breathing a few feet away. It was somewhat relaxing—if only to know that Edge was nearby. Rus had become used to his presence (damning as it could be). He’d grown accustomed to Edge’s scent as well. It bordered between sweet and savoury—an aromatic blend of something soft, and something a little sharper. As Rus dozed, he inhaled the familiar scent, and his bones warmed—just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edge's behaviour towards Rus is very blunt and unforgiving initially--despite Rus's obvious panic. He does realise this eventually, and provides some comfort. But his initial attitude towards Rus's eating disorder isn't very kind. (I'm not sure it's quite as bad as I'm making it out to be, but I just want to be safe).  
> (The chapter does end on a pleasant-ish note, though.)


	7. Crumbling Sentiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Edge could still feel the two small puncture wounds at his neck, tingling with Rus’s venom. And it felt incredible. Intoxicating. Edge couldn’t stop thinking about it. The rush of euphoria, Rus’s fangs on his bones, the feeling of his own magic fuelling the lifeforce of another being._
> 
> Oh, there was something so deeply wrong with Edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Self-loathing, self-disgust, mild mental instability, brief non-graphic violence, brief unwanted sexual comments.

The stable was quiet. The final threads of the day’s light crept through the cracks and shone across the straw, still damp from the earlier rain, the remnants of which pattered softly against the roof. The distant chirping of insects outside signalled the approaching night, and the impending journey ahead.

Edge shifted from his slouched position on the floor, spreading his legs out in front of him to relieve the tension that had built in his joints. His spine ached from sitting still for so long, and his skull felt heavy from lack of sleep. Unfortunately though, sleep wasn’t an option. Not with two enemies so close by.

Snowdrake was still tied to the wall, dozing uncomfortably in his awkward position. Edge had given his wounds some superficial healing, but his wings were still curled around his body, head tucked protectively against them. Even in sleep, his face was taut with burden and fear. Edge looked away.

A little to his left, the vampire slept. Unlike Snowdrake, sleep smoothed the worries and tensions from the vampire’s face. ~~He~~ _it_ looked peaceful. Almost picturesque. Sweet, gentle, unmarred. Curled up on his side with neither fears nor scars tainting him. His cheekbones held some warmth to them—flushed with a tint of ~~Edge’s~~ magic. In a moment so tranquil, Edge could almost mistake him for a mortal monster.

_~~Stars, Edge could still feel the two small puncture wounds at his neck, tingling with Rus’s venom. And it felt incredible~~ _ ~~. _Intoxicating. Edge couldn’t stop thinking about it. The rush of euphoria, Rus’s fangs on his bones, the feeling of his_ own _magic fuelling the lifeforce of another being._~~

Almost.

~~Rus~~ — _It_ was still a vampire. A creature designed to kill. To take, giving nothing in return but death. A parasite. Something vile and dark and—

_Whimpering and terrified. Clinging to himself…_

—monstrous. Undeserving of mercy or pity. Cold. Savage. Wicked…

_‘d-don’t make me do it, edge…’_

Edge studied the vampire. In its slumber, its teeth were parted, leaving its small fangs on display. _~~Fangs, which mere hours ago, had been buried in Edge’s neck~~. _ Without intending to, Edge touched his neck. As his fingers brushed the wound, he shivered. ~~And not in an entirely unpleasant way.~~

He stood abruptly and crossed the stable. The old wood groaned as he opened the door a crack. He glanced quickly behind him, tentative. The vampire stirred, wrapping its arms more tightly around its shoulders, but didn’t wake.

Snowdrake’s feathers shuddered and he slowly opened his eyes, watching Edge cautiously. Edge spared him nothing more than a cursory glance before peering out onto the empty street. The rain had stopped, but the ground was wet and muddy, and clouds shrouded the setting sun. A thick mist hung in the air, limiting Edge’s visibility. Slowly shutting the door, he returned to his spot against the stable wall and sunk to the ground, drawing his knees up.

To trust Snowdrake entirely was a foolish endeavour. There was nothing to stop him from running straight to Grillby once he’d escorted Edge and the vampire safely through Snowdin. And Edge had already revealed his weakness—he couldn’t kill Snowdrake. He didn’t possess the strength to deliver the execution of a monster barely out of striped shirts, much less one he’d befriended so long ago. This entire gambit was leaning on Snowdrake’s fear of the vampire—and the vampire was hardly the stuff of nightmares. It wouldn’t take long for Snowdrake to realise that the creature was incapable of bringing him any true harm.

Once again, Edge cursed fate for bestowing him with such an _unvampiric_ vampire.

Waterfall. They needed to reach Waterfall. Once they were in Undyne’s territory, Grillby wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on them. (Ignoring the crucial and troubling fact that Undyne would likely kill the vampire on sight).

Across the stable, Snowdrake shuddered, feathers rippling as he pressed his wings closer against his body. Edge watched him. He was staring very deliberately at the ground, but his small yellow eyes darted to Edge constantly—and to the vampire. Silently, Edge rose and approached him. He leaned away instinctively when Edge crouched before him, shielding his face with his wing.

“You remember our deal, do you not?” Edge asked, quietly. Snowdrake nodded without a word. Edge pushed aside his pity—his _guilt_ —at the despair in Snowdrake’s eyes. “Then you remember what happens if you go back on it, I’m sure.” Another nod. “I won’t hesitate.” Edge lowered his voice and a little more venom seeped into his tone. “I don’t give third chances.”

“I-I know, Edge—I know, and I _swear_ —”

“Stay true to your word, Snowy,” Edge said, rising. Snowdrake shivered and drew in on himself, nodding frantically. Satisfied that—for now, at least—Snowdrake was fearful enough to keep his promise, Edge left him and walked over to the vampire.

~~He~~ it was still asleep, its face a pleasant mask of peace. Edge was, strangely, almost reluctant to wake it. To see it return to consciousness would be to see the innocence that preserved it in sleep stripped away. Edge sunk to his knees, touching the vampire’s shoulder. A pulse of magic passed through him, prickling at the twin bite wounds at his neck. He pulled away sharply, his breath catching.

Stirred by the touch, the vampire slowly opened its eyes ( ~~bright, golden eyes that softened its features and emanated warmth~~ ). Seconds passed, and they both remained silent. The vampire’s gaze travelled over Edge, hesitating at his neck, though it was concealed by his scarf. Edge’s hand tightened into a fist, and he stood quickly. “Get up. We’re leaving.” A bite of ice touched the air and the stable had grown dim. Night had fallen.

Bones clicking, the vampire stretched its limbs out and climbed to its feet. Its gaze drifted to Snowdrake, who had pressed himself against the far wall, wings quivering and eyes wide. “no need to be such a chicken,” the vampire said, tastelessly. “i don’t bite.” Snowdrake looked unconvinced.

Edge untied the rope binding Snowdrake to the beam across the ceiling, but hesitated when he reached Snowdrake’s wings. Snowdrake shifted back and forth impatiently, his eyes flickering between Edge and the vampire. “It’ll look suspicious if you keep me tied up,” he said. He was anxious—clearly—which was enough to rouse suspicion, only… Edge knew he was right. He couldn’t very well march a bound monster through the town without drawing attention to himself.

He tugged the rope, pulling Snowdrake in and regarding him coldly. Snowdrake cowered. “One wrong move—just _one_ —and—”

“There w-won’t be one,” Snowdrake assured him, lifting his wings defensively. “I promise, Edge. I won’t…”

Edge wasn’t completely reassured, but he knew he was only wasting time by deliberating. Sighing heavily, he untied Snowdrake’s wings and coiled up the rope, returning it to his inventory. He did not, however, refrain from summoning a small, but needle-sharp, construct of bone. He pressed the dagger against Snowdrake’s back and guided him to the door. “Lead the way,” he ordered. “And you—” He looked at the vampire. “At my side.”

For a few seconds, the vampire didn’t move, regarding Edge in a way that almost threatened a challenge. Edge’s hand wandered to the silver knife at his hilt and he narrowed his eye sockets. But the vampire seemed in no mood to fight, and moved beside him with his arms crossed—almost a display of contempt. His head was bowed, but his eye-lights flickered to Edge. They settled on the exact spot he’d bitten Edge and—

Edge looked away. Inside, his magic burned.

 

The walk was silent. Blessedly, the streets were mostly empty, and of the monsters that were outside of their homes, few dared to spare them more than a second’s glance. Edge treasured the darkness this part of Snowdin offered them. The abundance of abandoned homes and half-constructed shelters provided them with sufficient cover, and few of the streetlamps were lit. For perhaps the first time in his life, Edge was grateful that this part of Snowdin was so poorly financed.

Snowdrake was deft, guiding them quickly through alleys and shortcuts, ducking into the shadows whenever the sound of footsteps drew near. He cast a few quick glances at Edge over his shoulder as he walked, and occasionally, at the vampire. He said nothing, though, keeping as silent as the shadows in which they hid.

It was when they reached the main town that Edge started to grow wary. Early evening meant most of the town’s residents were heading home—or away from home, depending on their choice of evening pleasures. Snowdrake led them through a back alley that emerged onto the busiest street of the town. He proceeded to step into the crowd when Edge grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him. “What on earth are you doing?” he hissed, brandishing his dagger of bone. “We’ll be seen, you insolent creature!”

“It’s the quickest way to the Waterfall gate,” Snowdrake said, though he faltered, looking anxious. “… this isn’t a trap, Edge.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Edge snapped beneath his breath. “Grillby has eyes everywhere—we’ll be recognised the moment we step into the light.”

“You won’t,” Snowdrake insisted. “We’ll blend right into the crowd. It would rouse more suspicion if we were caught sneaking through the alleyways.”

Edge drew himself up, inhaling sharply. He glanced at the vampire; it was wringing its hands, nervous. The light from the lamps above glinted off the silver studs of the collar at its neck. Edge reached for it, but the vampire drew away, startled. “what are you doing?”

“You need to keep this hidden,” Edge said, adjusting the vampire’s shirt to conceal the collar. “It’ll draw attention to you, and I cannot have Grillby finding you again.” He examined the vampire, looking at its fangs. “I don’t suppose you have any way of hiding those?”

“no,” the vampire mumbled, bitterly. “i’ve tried. trust me.”

Edge hummed and conceded. “Very well.” He looked down at Snowdrake, frowning. “Do remember that your survival is dependent upon—”

“I know,” Snowdrake said, sounding tired. He turned to the street. “Don’t walk too quickly, but keep your heads low.”

Edge grasped the vampire’s sleeve, drawing it close before he followed Snowdrake onto the bustling street. He ducked his head, the glowing streetlamps all too bright for his liking. He couldn’t shake the feeling that every monster they passed was onto them—the stares seemed to linger too long, the eyes seemed filled with suspicion, the unintelligible whispers seemed to echo with Edge’s name.

It felt like an hour before they ducked off the street, safely shrouded by shadows once again. “Not far,” Snowdrake told Edge, hurrying them along. “The gate is just ahead.”

If Edge hadn’t been so eager to escape the rush of the town, he may have noticed the two shadows that slunk after them as they left the street. Unfortunately, fate had never been his ally.

 

It was no small blessing when at last they reached the final stretch to Waterfall. Tiny, pale blue mushrooms grew between the cracks in the stone, and beneath their feet, scatterings of Waterfall’s gemstones encrusted the ground. The river roared on either side of them, hidden by thick, lush trees and blossoming delphiniums. A few stray drops of rain caught Edge’s skull, icy to the touch. Beside him, the vampire shivered, bundling itself up in its arms as it hurried to keep up.

Ahead, the gate loomed. Two large pillars had been erected on either side of the road, sealing off the path to Waterfall. Edge narrowed his sockets, scanning the gate as they approached. It was seldom left unguarded, and although no one was in sight, Edge doubted today was an exception. Their safe passage depended upon who was on guard…

Edge tugged the vampire closer to him, gripping its collar and shielding it from the line of view from the gate. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, shard of bone ready in his hand. The vampire obeyed wordlessly. Edge could feel it trembling.

They came to a standstill when they reached the towering iron bars of the gate, waiting. The rush of the river filled Edge’s ear canals, his head pounding. He fiddled with the clasp of the vampire’s collar, a thought nagging at his mind. If the monsters on guard did not permit them to pass, they would have no other way of making it to Waterfall. Unless…

“Vampire,” Edge whispered, keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead. The vampire tilted its head without looking up. Edge tugged at the collar lightly, thoughtful. “Do you have enough magic to teleport?” he asked, quietly, keeping his voice too low for Snowdrake to hear.

At this, the vampire glanced up, frowning. “i… don’t know if i can…”

“You may need to.” Edge breathed in. If Snowdrake was a risky option—the vampire was far worse. In addition to having far more motive to turn against Edge, it actually possessed the capacity to kill him. Edge would be a fool to put any faith in it…

And yet.

Edge swallowed. His hand was unsteady around the dagger of bone, and he itched to touch his neck—to feel the bite wounds beneath his scarf. They prickled with venom and magic; the feeling was…

_No._

Edge clenched his fist around the bone, resisting the urge. But he unclipped the vampire’s collar, storing it in his inventory. The vampire’s head snapped around, and it stared at Edge, wide-eyed. “Don’t make me regret it,” Edge told it, returning his gaze to the gate.

 

_Stars, had he just made a terrible mistake? Would the vampire kill him at the next turn? Or would it simply flee, leaving him stranded without his captive?_

_But… No. Edge couldn’t conceive why, but somehow, his trust did not feel misplaced. Was it the tingle of magic at his neck? The reminder of the vampire’s mercy—its tenderness, the touch of its sweet, warm—_

 

Edge caught himself, inhaling sharply. _If Red could see him now…_

He pushed the thought aside at the sound of the steady clank of armour. He peered through the mist veiling the path on the other side of the gate. Two figures were approaching, side-by-side, heavy axes in hand. “Be ready,” he murmured to the vampire, stepping close and grasping it by the elbow. “On my word…”

The figures came to a stop before the gate, their faces still hidden. “Who goes there?” one of them called. “Smells like…”

“… feathers and bones,” the other one finished. Edge frowned. He recognised the voices, though whether or not he could trust them was still unclear.

Snowdrake stepped forward half an inch, his feathers quaking. “I-it’s Snowdrake. My—f-friends wish to pass through the gate to Waterfall.”

“Friends?” One of the figures leaned forward, sniffing the air, then hesitated. “… Edge?”

Edge’s soul went cold. “Yes?” he responded tentatively, drawing the vampire closer to him. If they recognised him… then they could be working for Grillby. He could hear the beat of his soul pounding in his skull.

The figures on the other side of the gate were silent. They exchanged a glance and nodded, before cranking the lever beside one of the pillars. The gate groaned as it slowly swung open. Both armour-clad monsters stepped forward, emerging into visibility through the fog.

The Dogi had looked out for Edge and Red for years when they’d been living in Snowdin. Keeping them out of trouble, _getting_ them out of trouble—they had protected them. While their loyalties had never extended to Grillby, the same had been true of many others before Edge and Red had left. Snowdrake was a prime example of how easy it was for one to slip into Grillby’s service.

Edge tensed as Dogaressa walked close, sniffing him. “Not a pup anymore,” she noted.

“Not quite,” Edge said, flexing his fingers, preparing his magic. He allowed the Dogi to investigate him, knowing it would put their minds at ease. (The familiar action was somewhat relieving for his own mind, too). When they reached the vampire however, they paused.

Dogamy cocked his head, leaning in and pressing his nose right against the nape of the vampire’s neck. The vampire cringed away, leaning back against Edge. “Smells like bones and…”

“… Edge.”

Heat flooded Edge’s face, and he caught the vampire by the elbow, guiding it away from the Dogi. “Lieutenants,” he said, using the formal title the Dogi had given themselves—although it had no real meaning in Snowdin. “Will you grant us passage through the gate to Waterfall?” Edge watched them closely, searching for any signs of aggression.

The Dogi considered him, then looked at each other and nodded once. “We have decided…”

“… to grant you access.”

Relief flooded Edge and he released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you.”

Dogaressa regarded Edge, tilting her head. “What is your business in Waterfall?”

Edge’s grip tightened around the vampire’s arm and he drew his shoulders up. “I’m… visiting.”

“Undyne?” Dogamy questioned. Cautiously, Edge nodded, but the lie twisted a knot in his chest. Dogamy returned his nod, standing aside. “Then we shall—” He broke off, his nose twitching, suddenly alert. He and Dogaressa shifted, their stances becoming defensive, axes poised.

“Intruders!” Dogaressa growled, staring down the foggy path towards Snowdin. Snowdrake’s wings fluttered, and he scurried behind the dogs. “Behind us!” Dogaressa instructed Edge.

Edge ducked behind the Dogi with the vampire in tow. He crept backwards, passing the gate. Through the fog ahead, two monsters appeared. Edge recognised one of them as a guard that frequently manned Grillby’s establishment—an immense bear monster, with a few too many scars and tears in his fur to be considered a mediator. At his side was one of Grillby’s regulars—a drunkard bunny who liked to leer at the workers, caustic remarks often on the tip of her tongue. A thirst for violence flared in her hazy eyes now, and she smiled sordidly as her gaze fell on Edge.

Edge cursed himself inwardly for being so careless. Undoubtedly, they had been recognised when they’d passed through the central part of town. He wondered if Grillby had put a price on his head. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

He drew another step back as the bunny monster licked her teeth. More than once, Edge had been on the receiving end of one of her fouler remarks in his earlier years in Snowdin.

True to her nature, she whistled as she and the bear approached, scanning the length of Edge’s body. “Edgy~ my, my, you’ve grown up nicely.” Her gaze wandered to the vampire, and her grin broadened grotesquely. “And you have a pretty friend, too. How delightful!”

The Dogi remained in position as the two monsters neared. “They are in Undyne’s territory now,” Dogamy warned, baring his teeth and halting the other two monsters.

“Not just yet,” said the bunny. “Undyne’s territory doesn’t start until the cavern.”

The bear folded his arms, thick muscles rippling as magic sparked through him, his eyes flashing. “An’ those two ‘re th’ property a’ Grillby,” he said, nodding in the direction of Edge and the vampire. “We’re ‘ere ta collect.”

The Dogi stood firm. “They will not be—”

“—going with _you_!”

Both Dogi growled as the bear and the bunny inched forward. Edge felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to find Snowdrake giving him a frantic look. “Run,” he hissed. “They—they can’t get you in Waterfall. _Run._ ”

The Dogi’s growls had escalated to threatening barks, magic flaring around their weapons. “Snowy—” Edge inhaled. “You’ll—you’ll take care of yourself, won’t you?” He swallowed, backing further down the path as Grillby’s lackeys crept closer.

“I wonder if Grillby will let us have a go at Edgy and his pretty friend,” the bunny sang as she summoned a ball of icy magic. Edge felt the vampire clutch onto his arm.

“e-edge…”

“Soon,” Edge whispered, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the bunny and the bear. “Snowy…” He reached into his inventory, scrambling for his sack of gold. He slipped it into Snowdrake’s grip behind his back without looking down. “Take it all. Get out of Snowdin. Get yourself a ship… Don’t go near the Capital.”

“Edge… I can’t…”

“ _Take it,_ ” Edge hissed.

“Step aside,” the bear growled at the Dogi, fists bared and ready. “Or ye’ll be answerin’ ta the likes a’ Grillby.”

Edge crept backwards a few paces, squeezing the vampire’s arm. “Now,” he murmured. “Do it now.”

“We do not serve Grillby,” Dogaressa barked, her voice sharp and furious.

“We are allies to the good monsters of Snowdin,” Dogamy said, holding his axe out in warning. “And you are not a good monster of Snowdin.”

“ _Vampire,_ ” Edge hissed as the four monsters began to square off, their stances hostile.

“a-a blind teleport is risky…” the vampire stammered. His arm shook in Edge’s grip, and Edge noticed his gaze hadn’t wavered from the bunny monster, his features taut with fear.

Realising he had little hope of convincing the vampire otherwise, Edge drew his knife and pressed it against the vampire’s chin, ignoring its pained yelp of surprise. “Get us into Waterfall. _Now._ ”

Feral growls erupted and the clink of weapon against magic began—but the sounds quickly faded as the world disappeared into a swirl of grey around them. Edge’s knees almost crumpled as his feet slammed heavily into the ground. It took him a few seconds to gain his bearings, but he quickly realised they hadn’t left the path. They stood at the mouth of Waterfall’s underground cavern, darkness deepening below them, the path dotted by the glow of tiny mushrooms.

Waterfall was a mysterious place; a vast expanse of caves teeming with unseen life. It was seldom traversed, and those that dared were in and out within a day—or in, but never out. The creatures that dwelled there were unfriendly and reclusive (guardian of the territory included).

The air around them was still suffused with aggressive energy, and Edge’s fingers began to twitch, the tick spreading up his arms and to his shoulders. He inhaled deeply, trying to restrain his LV—triggered by the taste of violence in the atmosphere.

“Get us down there,” he said to the vampire, who was peering into the darkness, warily. “As far as you can.” He cast a glance over his shoulder into the mist, then turned back to the vampire, who was frowning. “ _Quickly,_ ” he urged it.

The vampire looked at him. Its features were laden with exhaustion, its shoulders slumped. It shook its head. “i—i don’t know if i can…”

Edge’s hand twitched around his knife and he stepped towards the vampire, grasping its shirt roughly. Eye sockets widening, the vampire lifted its hands defensively. “woah—hey. there’s no need for that.” It swallowed, eye-lights darting anxiously to Edge’s knife. “i’ll do it, just… if we end up plummeting to our deaths, that’s on you.”

“I accept the blame. Now take us down there.” Releasing the vampire, Edge shut his sockets and returned his knife to its hilt, squeezing his fists tightly at his sides, pushing back the impulse to lash out. The vampire grasped his arm unsteadily, and then the world was rushing around them again, emptiness roaring in Edge’s skull. It lasted but a few seconds before something icy drenched him and he landed painfully hard.

The impact knocked him off his feet and he collapsed with a splash, biting cold water soaking through his clothes. Edge opened his sockets. Beside him, the vampire had landed on its side, luminescent water soaking through to its white shirt, which clung to its bones. Thankfully, the pool was shallow. Growling irritably, Edge heaved himself to his feet and marched out of the water, brushing the slippery plant matter from his pants and jacket. “wish i could say this is the worst place a teleport has landed me,” the vampire muttered.

Edge ignored it, pulling his boots off and sitting on the grass beside the pool, attempting to squeeze some of the water from his scarf. They’d landed far from the cavern’s entrance, Edge noticed, with a glance at his surroundings—for better or for worse though, time had yet to tell. The path was a few feet away, illuminated by mushrooms and tiny silver-blue gemstones. Saturation aside, they hand landed in a relatively fortunate location. As far as Edge could tell, there were no dwellings nearby. Finding oneself in the home of a lurking aquatic beast was seldom a pleasant experience.

Edge glanced up as the vampire slumped onto the grass beside him, lying on its back. It pressed an arm over its eyes, panting. “that was… a little more than i was prepared to handle,” it breathed, its chest heaving.

Edge surveyed it cautiously, fingers itching for his knife. “Are you hungry?”

The vampire cracked open a socket, giving him a bland look. “you know, i’m more than my appetite, silver knight.” Its eye-lights flickered to his neck, and Edge suddenly wished he hadn’t taken off his scarf. “are you… offering?”

“ _No,_ ” Edge said sharply, scrambling away. He drew his arms around his knees, eyeing the vampire from a safe distance. “I was just— _checking._ ”

The vampire raised its hands defensively. “sorry, sorry, so was i.” Again, its eyes wandered to Edge’s neck, only this time, they lingered.

“Stop that,” Edge snapped, pressing his hand over his vertebrae to shield them.

Realising itself, the vampire glanced away, muttering an apology. “can’t help it, sorry. you’re just…” It swallowed. “you have a lot of. magic. you know?”

“Astounding, how being a monster composed largely of magic yields an abundance of magic.”

With a croaky chuckle, the vampire closed its eyes again, its shoulders relaxing. “you know, you can be quite amusing when you’re not trying to kill me.”

“Not once have I tried to kill you,” Edge pointed out, tone flat.

“words cut deeper than swords, silver knight.”

Edge rolled his eye-lights at that. He shrugged off his jacket and spread it across the grass to dry. Finding a spot against the cave wall, he lay back. The cave around him was still and quiet. Distantly, he could hear the echo of running water. Waterfall—true to its name—was home to many bodies of water, but none so distinct that Edge might be able to pinpoint their location. Following the path seemed to be their best option.

On the grass, the vampire dozed, blissfully inattentive to its surroundings. Edge frowned as he observed it. It was still panting, chest heaving and mouth parted. Its wet bones glistened a pretty silver in the glow of the pool. Through its soaked shirt, Edge could see its ribs and spine. The bones were thin and delicate—nothing like Edge’s; thick, scarred and hardened by his LV.

Edge caught himself when his gaze lingered too long. “We should get moving soon,” he said, voice tight.

“right.” The vampire didn’t open its eyes, just sighed. “let me have a minute, please. i meant it when i said that teleport was… a bit much.” Upon closer examination, Edge noticed the way the vampire’s limbs quivered, and the saturation of its eye-lights from gold to orange. It was tired. Worn thin from magic expenditure and…

Edge inhaled, guilt prickling his soul. And him.

 

Over his years of learning from his brother, Edge had been taught many things about vampires. Their strengths, their weaknesses, what enticed them, what repelled them.

He’d learnt about their hunger—

_a hungry vampire is a desperate vampire, an’ they’ll do anythin’ ta feed, even if it means clawin’ through yer chest ta get at yer magic._

He’d learnt the best way to fight a vampire—

_best way ta fight ‘em, is not at all. draw them ta ya. take ‘em off guard._

He’d learnt the best way to kill them—

_weaken ‘em first—sunlight works best—then keep strikin’ until there’s nothin’ left. get ta the soul if ya can._

He was something of an expert when it came to killing vampires…

 

He watched the vampire—Rus; still dozing lightly on the grass, limbs sprawled, posture relaxed, peaceful. Edge hadn’t learnt about this. About what vampires could _truly_ be like. About those that tried, those that cared, those that resisted their impulses.

_Those with souls gentler than many mortal monsters Edge had met._

Edge drew himself up, placing his hands in his lap. “Va—” He inhaled. “Rus.”

~~The vampire~~ ~~he~~ ~~it~~ _Rus_ looked up. “… silver knight?”

Edge chose not to acknowledge the nickname. “Come here,” he said. When the vampire lifted a brow bone, he sighed. “You’re too exposed,” he elaborated. “You’ll draw less attention to yourself if you’re not sprawled in the middle of the path.”

“firstly,” Rus began, though he was already climbing to his feet. “i’m hardly in the middle of the path.” He indicated the glittering mushrooms a few feet away. “and secondly—i thought you…” He frowned, considering. “well, ‘hate’ is a very strong word, but in this case, i think it’s appropriate.”

“I hold little fondness for you,” Edge said, ignoring the bitter taste the words left in his mouth. “But it would make my life a lot easier if you remained un-dusted.”

“i can certainly say the same for myself.” Rus studied him cautiously before approaching; Edge noticed the way his eye-lights flickered to the silver blade at his hilt.

He also noticed other things about him. Such as the grace with which he walked. And the fading glimmer of magic that touched his cheekbones. And how his damp shirt clung to his bones. His clean, pretty white bones—

Edge cast his eyes away.

He didn’t look up when Rus sat beside him, but he could feel his gaze on him. On his neck…

“What’s wrong with you?” Edge asked abruptly, head snapping up.

Rus looked taken aback, blinking. “well. several things, i can assure you.”

“No.” Edge searched his features, as if he might find some hint of an answer to just one of the million questions that had been eating at his mind since he’d met this vampire. “Why don’t you… act like a vampire?”

This only seemed to further Rus’s confusion, his brow bone furrowing. “given that i am a vampire, one can only presume that my actions are vampiric.”

“They’re not,” Edge said, flatly. He was beginning to feel frustrated. “You’re not—you don’t make _sense._ You’re unnatural, you’re strange, you’re—you’re too _good._ ”

“flattered,” Rus said, frowning. “but, stars, what gave you that impression?”

“You haven’t even attempted to kill me.”

“oh my, your standards are low.”

Edge closed his eyes, breathing in and reminding himself to unclench his fists. He let go of an empty laugh and shook his head, looking at Rus. “You’re not… who you’re supposed to be. This was… this was supposed to be easy.” His voice trailed into silence on the last syllable.

His head pounded, aching from stress and lack of sleep. And little could be said for his emotional stability. His entire body felt out of sync with his mind, ready to snap at the smallest of stimuli.

And he almost did, when he felt the vampire’s fingertips brushing his arm. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” he growled, yanking his arm away and drawing back.

~~The vampire~~ … Rus blinked, pulling his hand back. “sorry…” He looked down, staring at his feet. “i don’t… want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re a vampire,” Edge said, deadpan. “Discomfort accompanies your presence.”

Edge rested his hand on his neck, over the bite wounds, and inhaled, closing his eyes.

_~~Stars. With Rus sitting this close, he could almost envision the rush of being bitten again.~~ _

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” he breathed, his words catching in his throat.

“i don’t…”

“The _bite_ ,” Edge said sharply, almost desperately. He turned to Rus, frantic. “Is it supposed to feel—” He choked, disgusted with himself. “ _Nice._ ”

Rus stared at him. No traces of amusement or teasing remained in his expression, only… shock. Disbelief? _Horror?_ Edge couldn’t read him and it was frustrating him _endlessly._ “only…” Rus closed his eyes and drew back, curling his arms around himself. His voice was softer than a whisper. “only if you’re… receptive.”

Edge sunk back against the wall and pressed his face into his hands. If his brother were here. If Red could see him now…

_feedin’ vampires willingly is one a’ the foulest things a monster can do. givin’ yer magic away to a vile parasite…_

_filthy whores with a twisted love fer those leeches…_

_there’s nothin’ lower than a mortal that sympathises with vampires. nothin’. they’re disgustin’, loathsome bein’s… messed up in the head is what they are, an’ if ya ever see someone like that, edgy, i want ya ta stay well away from ‘em._

 

Crumbling and shaking, Edge fought back tears.


	8. Old Masters and New Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old habits die hard, particularly when around those who encourage them. Though Edge's perceptions of Rus are slowly shifting, change is difficult.  
> AKA: Edge has a hard time standing up to Undyne, and Rus suffers for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief graphic violence, non-graphic violence, aggressive discrimination, dehumanisation, verbal aggression, non-consensual chaining and collaring. 
> 
> This chapter could be very uncomfortable for some people. Detailed warnings are in the end notes.

_For a vampire, he felt incredibly warm in Edge’s arms. Smooth and delicate. Something precious that needed protection. Protection Edge intended to provide._

_Edge held him tightly, whispering to him; sweet, meaningless words that sent shudders through his fragile bones. Edge cradled him closer, guiding his head toward his neck. He shivered pleasantly at the touch of his fangs. They scraped his vertebrae, hesitant._

_‘Take it,’ Edge breathed, magic flooding his mouth and joints. ‘It’s yours. It’s all yours. I’m all yours…’_

_‘silver knight…’_

_‘Rus, please. I need…’_

_‘edge—_ edge.’

 

Edge’s sockets flew open and he gasped sharply. It felt as if he’d been doused in cold water. Something sharp was digging into his spine, and he realised he’d fallen asleep slumped against the cave wall. Waterfall’s chill had seeped beneath his clothes, which were still damp. Rus was shaking him gently, and Edge wrenched his arm away. “You let me fall asleep?” he snapped, though his grogginess took the bite out of his tone. He glanced around in a panic. Rus was watching him anxiously, eyeing the dagger at his belt.

“just a few hours,” he said. “i kept watch.”

“And you didn’t think to wake me?” Edge asked, furiously.

“you were exhausted—but, edge, i…” Rus’s voice dropped to a whisper and he leaned in (stars, did he have to sit so close? Edge could practically _feel_ him). “i think there’s someone out there.”

Immediately alert, Edge swiftly climbed to his feet, scoping the area around them. By all appearances, everything was still. The luminescent water rippled beneath the steady drip from the cavern ceiling, and the grass swayed in the soft breeze. Still, Edge knew better than to trust the silence. “Get up,” he murmured. “We need to get moving.”

Waterfall didn’t provide much in the way of hiding places, so Edge knew that if they were discovered, a confrontation was likely. A confrontation his magic reserves couldn’t afford. He hadn’t eaten properly in days, and though his few hours of sleep had replenished his HP somewhat, it still sat uncomfortably below half. After pulling his boots and (still damp) scarf and jacket back on, he took Rus by the elbow and guided him swiftly down the path. They moved quickly, and as silently as the rustling grass would allow.

When they passed a small scattering of echo flowers, Edge was certain their soft voices reflected more than just their own footsteps.

“Will you be able to teleport us, should the need arise?” Edge asked quietly as they passed a crashing stream of water. Soft, pale wisps floated in the air around them—unfittingly serene.

Rus hummed, considering. He looked dubious, and Edge nodded; he’d suspected as much. “Then I suppose I’d best be putting this back on,” he said as he reached into his inventory for Rus’s collar. It had fallen beneath his other supplies, and he had to pause to scramble through the clutter.

“edge…”

“What is it—?” Edge froze, collar in hand. “Undyne.”

“Good to see you alive, kid,” Undyne said. Her convivial words were belied by the press of her silver-tipped spear against Rus’s neck.

Clad in full armour, Waterfall’s guardian had Rus caught beneath her arm. He was trapped firmly against her chest, the breastplate of her armour digging into his back—and judging by the pained arch of his spine, it was her silver armour. Oh stars, had Rus always looked so delicate, so fragile and _breakable?_ Edge could see his brittle bones through his damp shirt, which still clung to his ribs.

Edge’s soul churned and he pinned Undyne’s gaze, her yellow eye glinting, even beneath her helmet’s visor. “Undyne. Let him go. Just. Let me explain—”

Undyne tossed her head, her red hair flicking in the wind, and gave a derisive grunt. “Explain why you’re marching a vampire—sorry, a _living_ vampire—around my territory? I don’t think so, punk. I think I’ll let you explain once I’ve tossed its dust into the river.”

Edge inhaled deeply, fighting back the prickle of protective instinct that flared. “Don’t hurt him, Undyne. He—”

“ _Him?”_ Undyne growled dangerously, the sound chilling beneath her helmet. “What the fuck is going on, Edge? Do you know what this thing is?” She squeezed Rus tighter, then pushed him forward, bending both his arms behind his back and pressing her spear against the base of his neck. Rus choked on a pained cry, and Edge took a reflexive step toward him, reaching for his knife. _If Undyne so much as nudged her spear forward…_

“Please, Undyne,” Edge whispered, no longer able to keep the desperation out of his tone. “Please. I.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed thickly. “I need him. Alive. Just. Give me a chance to explain myself.”

Undyne didn’t release Rus, but she hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. “Edge…”

“As your friend, Undyne, I’m asking you to hear me out. Please.”

Edge knew Undyne. She wasn’t unreasonable—even when it came to vampires. Though she’d spent years training Edge to kill them… her faith in him ran deep—almost as deep as his faith in her ran.

Perhaps it was pity—or perhaps she really did value their friendship over the dust of a vampire—but Undyne released Rus, shoving him onto the ground with a frustrated growl. Rus landed heavily and winced—then yelped as Undyne pressed her boot against his spine, forcing him down into the grass. “Oh, relax, punk,” Undyne said, lifting her hand to stop Edge as he reached for his knife. “I’m not going to hurt your little demon.” She nodded at the collar in Edge’s hand. “Put that thing back on. Stars know why you’ve been letting it walk around so freely—you’d think all those years of training would’ve taught you something.”

_Or maybe the training was wrong,_ Edge wanted to say. Instead he nodded, crouching in front of Rus and carefully securing the collar back around his neck. Rus tried to meet his eye—tears were pooling at the rims of his sockets—but Edge looked away and stood to face Undyne. “I think this is a conversation that ought to be had in private,” he murmured, glancing around. They were still in the middle of the path, and though there were few Waterfall residents likely to challenge Undyne… not everyone who passed through was a Waterfall resident. Edge recalled the pattering footsteps he’d heard earlier. They had been too soft to be Undyne—not to mention the eight footfalls Edge had counted… His debts seemed to be catching up to him.

“Fine. You—” Undyne lifted her foot and reached down, yanking Rus to his feet by his elbow “—Get up.” She pressed her spear against his spine and he tensed, lifting his hands defensively. “Walk.” Rus followed the order without question.

Edge fell into stride beside Undyne and held his silence. But every time Rus slowed just enough for Undyne’s spear to catch him just a _little_ too sharply, or when his foot caught on a crack in the ground and he stumbled—Edge’s soul raced, and he had to push back the urge to reach out and catch Rus in his arms; to corral him to his chest and keep him safe and close…

Clinging to the small part of his mind that was still sane, Edge pushed back the memory of his dream. The last thing he needed right now was a reminder of how incredible the thought of having Rus’s fangs in him again had been.

 

Edge began to relax as the scenery around them became familiar. He and Red had spent years training in Undyne’s area of Waterfall. Edge recognised the patterns of the crystals on the rocks, and the scattered mushrooms along the path. Even the echo flowers smelled familiar.

When they arrived at the narrow crevice in the cave wall that hid Undyne’s home, Undyne pressed the tip of her spear against Rus’s spine, nudging him forward. “Keep moving, vampire.” Hurriedly, Rus squeezed himself through the gap. After shooting a glance over her shoulder at Edge, Undyne followed him. Edge hastened after them, cautious to leave Rus alone with Undyne.

The curtains had been drawn over Undyne’s windows, and the house was dark. Edge noticed she’d extinguished the light of the mushrooms that dotted her front yard too. He lifted a brow bone. “Expecting company?”

Undyne glanced at Rus, then murmured, “We’d better discuss this inside.” Edge nodded, moving towards Rus, but Undyne placed a hand on his chest, halting him. “It stays outside. I don’t need a reason to clean my house again.”

Edge frowned and cast a weary glance at the opening in the cave wall—hardly a proper line of defence against what lurked outside. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave him out here?” he asked.

Undyne considered Rus, humming, then nodded. “You’re right—we’d better chain him up.”

Edge blinked, and noticed Rus’s eye sockets going wide with terror. “That’s not quite what I was getting at…”

Undyne regarded Edge, tilting her head. “Think we need to muzzle him too? ‘Case he tries to shout for help?”

Edge caught her arm, fury simmering, and a low growl rumbling inside him. But Undyne was chuckling, and he realised he’d been baited. Letting go, he turned away, hands trembling. “Chain him up if you must,” he said, quietly. “I don’t care.” He didn’t look at Rus. Didn’t see the hurt in his expression, or the betrayal in his eye-lights. He. Didn’t.

_He couldn’t forget. Couldn’t forget the memory. The thought. The fleeting dream. Rus, cradled in his arms. Rus, tucked safely against his chest. Rus, mouth against his neck. Rus… his fangs scraping over the bone, teasing at the possibility of sinking deep and—_ taking.

Edge closed his eye sockets. _Breathe,_ he reminded himself. “Leave it here,” he said, bitterly. “It can wait. We have important matters to discuss.”

Edge. Did not look at Rus. Not when Undyne unravelled the chain she kept attached to her training dummy, not when she clipped it onto Rus’s collar, not when she yanked on it—not even when Rus whimpered. Edge stood with his back to Rus and his eyes closed, trying to tune out the sounds of Rus’s pitiful sobs.

But when Undyne led him inside, try as he might, Edge couldn’t resist a glance at Rus. His chest squeezed with nauseating guilt. Chained like a feral animal, Rus had shrunk in on himself, knees to his chest, shoulders hunched. He looked defeated.

“You coming, punk?” Undyne called. From inside the house, she was giving Edge a knowing look—a disapproving look. Forcing himself to look away from ~~Rus~~ the vampire, Edge followed her inside.

 

While Undyne made tea, Edge sat at the dining table—and did _not_ think about the vampire outside. He didn’t think about the dejection he’d seen on his face, or how vulnerable he was out there alone, or how much he wanted to hold him…

“Yellow flower,” Undyne said, sitting across from Edge and placing his mug of tea in front of him. “Your favourite.”

“ _Your_ favourite,” Edge reminded her, blowing on his tea. “You thrust it upon me.”

“Hey, just be grateful I was feeding you,” she said, drinking her tea scalding hot without so much as a flinch. “You and your brother were nothing but bones when you first came here.”

Smile growing, Edge indicated himself with a lifted brow bone. “And look at all the good you did us.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, punk,” Undyne said, though she was grinning. “And drink up. You’re not looking good—I mean it.” Edge obediently sipped at his (still a little too hot) tea, knowing it would do no good to argue with Undyne.

She placed her mug on the table and began detaching her heavy armour, letting it clatter heavily on the floor. “So.” She regarded Edge with a deliberate lift of her eyebrow. “Want to tell me what your plans are for the thing outside?”

“And would you care to tell me what all the extra security is for?” Edge asked, indicating the shuttered windows and the weapon rack next to the front door. Undyne narrowed her eye, knowing full-well that Edge was only avoiding her question.

Still, after taking a gulp of her tea, she sighed. “Been having a few… _visitors_ from Hotland.”

Edge frowned, putting his mug down. “Visitors? As in…?”

“Muffet’s—and drink up.”

Edge quickly took another sip—and admittedly, it did replenish his magic reserves somewhat, the warmth flowing through him.

Gulping down the last of her tea, Undyne placed her mug on the table—a little too hard, making it shudder beneath the force. “Muffet’s been looking to expand her territory,” she said, sourly. “And apparently, she has her sights on Waterfall. Good for agriculture, or whatever. They’re struggling to import enough food from the Capital to keep the ‘bakery’ thriving.” Undyne looked bitter, and Edge understood her frustration.

Muffet’s ‘bakery’ was not most famous for its pastries—but for their effects and potential uses. Muffet was more of an apothecary than a baker—only, the ruse allowed her to supply people with less lawful concoctions.

The King chose to look the other way, given the influence Muffet had over Hotland (and the revenue she generated him). “And she’s been causing you trouble?” Edge asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Undyne said, giving a wave of indifference. “Just need to tighten up security is all. And I can promise you, no one living here is going to back her up. She’s very unpopular among those of us who prefer the quiet life. And you—I don’t want to see a drop left in that mug.”

Lifting his tea in cheers, Edge forced himself to swallow down the remainder of it, even as it burned his throat. When he was finished, he found Undyne watching him, her gaze piercing. “So, how about you, then?” she asked. “What’s with the precious cargo?” Her eye travelled to the door, and Edge sighed.

“He— _it…_ it’s important. I… need it.”

“For what?” Undyne looked dubious. “The only thing those creatures are good for is killing, Edge.”

Edge swallowed and shook his head, inhaling. “It’s… complicated.” Reflexively, he fiddled with his scarf, the wounds on his neck itching as a reminder.

Undyne’s expression darkened. “It hasn’t hurt you, has it? Bitten you?”

Edge immediately let his hand drop, and shook his head firmly. “No,” he said, suddenly very grateful he’d remembered to put his scarf back on.

“Really?” Undyne looked doubtful. “It hasn’t even tried?”

Edge considered that. Somehow, telling Undyne _‘Not without asking’,_ didn’t seem appropriate, so he just shook his head. “No. H—it hasn’t.”

Undyne raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Alright then. So what are you keeping it around for?”

Edge swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I told you, I… I need it.”

Undyne narrowed her eye. “This isn’t about money is it? I didn’t think you were that type of person, Edge.”

“I—I’m _not,_ ” Edge said, growing frustrated. “I just. The King—”

“The _King?”_ Undyne looked exasperated. “Oh, come on, Edge. You know as well as anyone that the King’s whole spiel about ‘cherishing vampires’ is horseshit. He’s just going to kill it when you bring it to him, so why not save yourself the journey and do it yourself?”

“Undyne. I—I can’t…”

“Fucking stars, Edge,” Undyne exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Tell me what the fuck you’re planning, or I go out there, and I finish the job for you.”

 

****

 

Rus kept a close watch on the crack in the cave wall—just a few metres from where he sat. He’d pressed himself against the side of the house, and had his knees drawn close to his chest, hugging them tightly. Inside, his soul churned nauseatingly.

Without Edge, he felt vulnerable—easy pickings for any monster with a thirst for EXP. Not that his life mattered to Edge anyway beyond its trading value…

_‘Chain him up if you must. I don’t care.’_

Rus squeezed his sockets shut against his tears. No. It didn’t matter. He’d known Edge didn’t care for him. He’d known it since he’d met him.

_‘Is it supposed to feel like this? The bite. Is it supposed to feel_ —nice _?’_

That. That… hadn’t meant anything. Edge had said it himself—he needed Rus alive. He’d only fed him out of necessity. It didn’t mean anything that he’d… enjoyed it.

_‘Leave it. It can wait out here.’_

It meant nothing. Edge hadn’t changed. Rus was still the same in his eyes. A beast. Something vile and loathsome.

So why, even now, did Edge’s words sting? Rus had been foolish. He’d somehow deluded himself into believing that perhaps Edge might see him for more than his fangs and dead soul. That Edge might… feel something…

Rus hugged himself tighter, shaking with the effort it took to withhold his sobs. His mind traitorously wandered back to how Edge had refused to look at him, and he had to press his hand over his mouth to stifle a whimper.

He was being stupid. He’d allowed himself to latch onto Edge—to become wrapped up in the notion that someone might perhaps value him for more than what he was.

_The Queen needs you, Papy. You’re very important to her, you know. You’re too valuable for her to lose. Remember that, Papy. You’re important._

Rus pushed aside those memories. That was what they were now. Memories. It would do him no good to dwell on them. And…

And the same went for Edge. Rus had allowed hope to govern him, abandoning logic in the process. Edge was a hunter—yet he’d become something of a dream for Rus. A wish that could never be fulfilled but one that chasing gave Rus something to hold onto. A last desperate attempt at restoring purpose to his life.

A fool’s dream.

Rus flinched when the front door swung open and Undyne marched out, followed closely by Edge. Rus watched Edge—he looked somber, but was otherwise unreadable. Rus cringed away from Undyne when she crouched in front of him, studying him with a look of disgust. Though she’d now shed her armour, she was no less intimidating than she had been with it on. The patch concealing the scar across her right eye exuded danger on its own—but she had numerous other scars to speak of her ability in battle. Her physique spoke for itself.

Rus winced as she tugged on his chain, drawing him in and pinning him with a perilous stare. He tried to look away but she caught his chin in her hand, her grasp tight enough to be painful. “Look at me, scum,” she said, her voice dangerously low. Out of the corner of his socket, Rus noticed Edge stiffening. “At me,” Undyne repeated in a growl. “Don’t look at him. Don’t you dare look at him, _filth._ ”

The way she spat the word made Rus flinch. He grudgingly met her gaze, curdling beneath the sheer hatred of it. “You’re nothing to me,” she said. “Do you understand that? You’re worthless. A pest that needs to be eradicated. Were it up to me, you’d be scattering dust under my boots and I wouldn’t spare you another second’s thought.”

Tears prickled at Rus’s sockets when he caught Edge’s impassive expression, but he held his chin high, refusing to crumble. He _wouldn’t._

“But, as it happens,” Undyne went on, “it’s not up to me. Edge needs you alive.” She glanced at Edge then, and there was pity in her expression. Edge remained stiffly poised. Undyne’s grip on Rus’s jaw tightened as she looked back at him, and he grunted in pain, his breaths quickening. “But understand something, vampire—you are worth _nothing._ One wrong move, and I won’t hesitate to see to your slow, agonising demise.” The threat didn’t feel empty—Rus had little doubt Undyne would follow through on her promise. He swallowed, but didn’t break eye contact, even though his bones trembled.

Undyne glanced at Edge before leaning closer to Rus and dropping her voice to a whisper. “I saw the way you looked at him—you seem to be under the impression that he cares for you somehow. I’m telling you now that he doesn’t. Your life has value, but it is not worth an _ounce_ of affection—especially not his. You are a parasite. You are a disease. You are _nothing_. And don’t think he doesn’t know that.”

If Rus had possessed any lingering delusions about the way Edge felt for him, they were gone in an instant. Though he forced himself not to avert his gaze, tears fell from his sockets. Undyne didn’t relent, her revulsion deepening as he cried silently. When at last she released him, she shoved him away, and his skull cracked against the wall painfully. The push wasn’t particularly aggressive, but Rus felt half a point slip off his HP—so hateful was Undyne’s intent.

Rus almost sobbed with relief when Edge bent to undo his chains—but Undyne placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Leave it,” she said. “It’s been given enough freedom. It needs to learn its place.” She untied the chain from the training dummy and looped it around her fist. “Stand up,” she ordered, nudging the toe of her boot against Rus’s ribs. He hastily scrambled to his feet and Undyne handed Edge the chain. “Don’t give it too much free reign or it’ll start to believe it’s your equal.”

Edge took the chain from her, looking nauseous.

 

Rus was thankful that he went (mostly) ignored for their journey through Waterfall. Undyne and Edge walked behind him, speaking in hushed voices about things he quickly lost interest listening in on. Edge kept a tight hold on his chain, but he wasn’t forceful the way Undyne had been. Soon, Rus found his mind wandering as he walked.

He watched the silver-blue wisps that floated through the air around him; one would occasionally brush across his face, nothing more than a light tingle against the bone. He noticed that the mushrooms sometimes squeaked and lit up when he brushed past them, and he dared to stray a little out of his way a few times just to hear the noise.

Circumstances aside, Waterfall was pleasant. It had always been one of his favourite places to visit back at home—though his own Waterfall had its differences. He drew serenity from the smaller things—like the familiar crash of water and the indiscernible whispers of the echo flowers.

Rus remembered visiting the echo flowers on his days off, just to tell them stories so he could listen to them later. He listened now as he passed them, wondering idly if anyone in this world did the same. Unlikely, he mused. Most only echoed snatches of Edge and Undyne’s conversation. And some…

_Tell Miss Muffet he’s coming…_

_Edgy and his pet vampire are coming…_

_Tell Miss Muffet they’ll be arriving soon…_

Rus halted in his tracks, wincing when he earned himself a sharp tug of his chain. “What do you think you’re doing, filth?” Undyne snapped. “Keep moving.”

“w-wait,” Rus said. “listen.”

Undyne tutted irritably. “We don’t have time for this—Edge. Teach your vampire its place.”

“Undyne,” Edge whispered. “Listen to the flowers.”

Undyne frowned suspiciously, but did as he bid her to. Her features slowly morphed to a frown, and she muttered a curse. “That bitch and her pests—I bet they’re still nearby.” She regarded Rus, her mouth curling into a grimace. “Keep it close to you—and keep an eye socket out.”

They kept moving, Edge shortening Rus’s chain and keeping him at his side. In spite of everything, Rus drew comfort from being so close to Edge. Relying on him for protection was becoming an awful habit of his.

They hadn’t been walking long when Undyne stopped them. They remained still and silent at her bidding. Rus’s own breathing sounded loud in the cold stretch of empty cavern, populated only by a small crop of shrubbery against one of the far walls. Summoning a long, pointed spear of cyan magic, Undyne marched towards the bush. Rus watched, frozen, as she threw the spear towards the shrubs.

There was a shrill, sickening squeal as the spear pierced through the grass, and from within it, Undyne yanked a small, eight-legged creature, which dripped sticky black ichor onto the ground. It squirmed in her grip, though its struggles were weak. As Undyne examined it, it wheezed and chittered in panic. “What are you doing in Waterfall, spiderling?” Undyne spat. “You scum aren’t welcome here.”

The spiderling’s many eyes flickered to Edge, who remained where he was, but gripped Rus’s chain tighter and drew him closer, angling himself to shield him from the spiderling’s view. “H-him,” the spiderling croaked, lifting a bristly leg to point in Edge’s direction. “And hissss pet.”

Sighing in frustration, Undyne twisted the spear embedded in the creature’s abdomen, and it hissed and squealed, writhing. “Yes, I heard your vile chittering—but _why?_ What is your interest in him?” She hesitated, her expression growing dark. “What is Muffet’s interest in him?”

The spiderling chittered unhappily, coughing and releasing more ichor. “Muffet isss owed her debt,” it said.

Undyne’s gaze snapped to Edge, her eye wide. Edge had tensed at Rus’s side, but he said nothing. Growling, Undyne turned her attention back to the squirming spiderling. With a look of disgust, she yanked her spear from its body. It heaved and coughed as ichor spilled from its wound, then shrieked, choking as Undyne pinned it to the ground, grinding the point of her spear into its head until it crumbled into dust and scattered.

A horrified whimper caught in Rus’s throat, and he instinctively stepped closer to Edge, clinging to himself. Undyne dispelled her spear before turning on Edge, fuming. “Debt? You made a _deal_ with the spider? What the fuck were you thinking, Edge?”

Edge’s eye-lights flickered to Rus. He drew his shoulders up and inhaled. “It was a necessary deal, Undyne. She had something I needed.”

Undyne lifted her arms, huffing in exasperation. “What could possibly be worth a debt to the Spider? You may as well have signed your own death sentence.”

“Muffet won’t kill me,” Edge said, sounding oddly morose at the fact.

“All the more to your misfortune,” Undyne said.

Edge sighed. “I needed the deal. To capture the vampire. She traded me what I required to… apprehend it.” Again, Edge’s gaze darted briefly to Rus, and there was something strangely remorseful about the look in his eyes.

“Edge,” Undyne breathed, sounding tired. “I urge you to reconsider this. Just—kill the creature and rethink your plan. This… this isn’t right. It’s a _vampire._ It’s—”

“I know it’s difficult to understand,” Edge said, wearily. “But you know I can’t do that. I need him—i-it. You know I do.”

Undyne sighed and shook her head. “Stars, you’re smart, Edge—but you’re one of the biggest idiots I know. Please, just… don’t get yourself killed. Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Edge said, smiling faintly.

They walked on, and soon arrived at the large, flickering sign, displaying the words ‘Welcome to Hotland!’ in bright, red letters. Ahead of them, the path sloped upward, and silver moonlight spilled from outside the cavern’s mouth. Rus wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved that they were finally leaving Waterfall. Judging by what he’d heard of Hotland, their journey was going to be unpleasant. He eyed the large welcome sign above him.

Graffiti had been sprayed across various sections of it. Some appeared to be advertisements for various on-call services (none bordering on the right side of legal, it appeared). Others contained various slurs, while some contained phrases like ‘turn back now’ and ‘stay out of the kitchen’. One that caught Rus’s attention was a section that had been written across the word Hotland, replacing it with ‘the Spider’s web’.

Undyne brought them to a stop in front of the sign, and Rus noticed beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. “This is as far as I go,” she said, wiping her brow. “You know I’d come with you if I could, Edge…”

“I know,” Edge said. “Thank you, Undyne.”

Undyne gave Edge a (not so) gentle punch on the shoulder, and he grunted slightly, rubbing it. “Stay out of trouble, kid—no brothels.”

Edge rolled his eye-lights. “Noted.”

Undyne smirked as she walked back down the way they’d come, hesitating when she reached the path dipping into Waterfall’s cavern. “Oh, and Edge? Keep an eye out for the Spider.” Her gaze wandered to Rus, and she frowned. “And a close watch on the enemy you bring with you.”

Rus felt Edge’s hand flex around the chain. He nodded stiffly. “I will.”

With a final nod, Undyne turned and disappeared back into the cave, leaving Rus alone with Edge.

Already, Rus felt considerably calmer than he had with Undyne around. He looked at Edge hopefully; he hadn’t moved, standing still, as if in thought. He would… remove the chain, wouldn’t he? Now that Undyne was gone? He had no reason to keep Rus on a leash like an animal. He would…

Rus’s soul plummeted when Edge began to walk towards the cavern’s exit, along the moonlit path. When Rus didn’t move, he tugged on the chain, urging him forward. “Come along, vampire. We have ground to cover.”

It was the absence of his name, more than anything, that cut Rus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undyne is violently discriminatory towards Rus in this chapter, using words like "filth" and "scum", as well as death threats. She is also physically aggressive towards him in some instances. Edge does not step in or do anything to stop her, but he is also clearly uncomfortable with her behaviour. Overall, it's a very unpleasant chapter for Rus.


	9. Welcome to the Spider's Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge enters the very lair of the monster to whom he owes a great debt. With enemies everywhere, passing through without drawing Muffet's attention is going to be difficult... if not impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-consensual collaring and chaining (continued from the last chapter), threats of rape (though not treated as a 'threat'), threatened forced prostitution.
> 
> The end notes contain spoilers for the next chapter, but I wanted to provide assurance for anyone who is anxious with the way this chapter ends. If you'd like to avoid spoilers, skip the end notes entirely.

“Stay close to me and keep your head down,” Edge murmured, giving Rus’s chain a tug as they stepped onto the dry gravel of Hotland soil. Already, Rus felt a discomfort beyond the blistering heat. All around him, he could sense the unwelcome gazes of other monsters.

The first street’s market was buzzing, even this late at night. The lamps were strung with lanterns of different colours, and Rus could feel the unnecessary heat emitted by the torches lining the road as they passed them.

Merchants shouted at them from all directions. Their stalls offered many varieties of wares and trinkets—from glittering jewels and ornaments, to freshly baked pies and baskets of strange fruit. Rus caught sight of one vendor whose stand held several jars of greyish dust, labelled with various names—and a rack which had been strung with necklaces of small bones and various other body parts. The vendor—a Migosp—leaned forward in its seat as they passed it. “Yer bones ‘re awfully pretty, love,” it said, leering at Rus. “Don’t s’pose ya’d like ta spare a few?” Horrified, Rus tore his gaze away and kept walking, inching closer to Edge, whose grip tightened on the chain; Rus was suddenly grateful for it.

As they pushed through the thick crowds, perspiration started to build on Rus’s skull. Though the moon hung high in the clear night sky, the air was hot and muggy. Rus could smell the magic and sweat of every monster they passed…

Which raised another problem. An itch had begun to tickle the back of his throat, slowly building to an irritating burn. Rus was growing hungry. It was well over a day since Edge had fed him—and much of that magic had been spent healing his wounds. The remainder had gone towards his teleport. His soul was nearing empty, and every whiff of magic he caught in the air reminded him of that. He kept his head low and tried to hold his breath as they walked.

They managed to escape the busier street to a less populated part of town. A few monsters scurried across their path into their homes, but none spared them more than a moment’s glance. Dust clouds swirled along the road, kicked up by the hot wind that blew through the street, and Rus coughed as the particles caught in his throat. The heat did little to alleviate the dryness in his mouth. He felt parched, and standing this close to Edge only served as a reminder of what his magic smelled—and tasted—like.

He winced when Edge gave the chain a tug, drawing him close. “By my side,” he instructed, voice dipping low. Rus followed his gaze—at the end of the street was a single stall, illuminated by a lone, eerie purple lamp. It was a simple table with a checked pink cloth draped over it, and a sign displaying the prices of the various sweets for sale. It was being manned by a petite bunny with neatly combed fur threaded with withered flowers. She wore a frilly pink dress, and greeted them with a smile as they passed.

Edge ignored her obstinately, walking swiftly, but she called out to them. “Won’t you try one of our pastries? They were made fresh just this afternoon.” Edge came to a stiff stop, drawing Rus’s chain tighter.

“No. We will not,” he said, his voice clipped.

The bunny seemed undeterred by Edge’s abrasiveness, batting her long, painted eyelashes and smiling sweetly. “Oh, but they’re delicious. The finest the kingdom has to offer.” Upon closer inspection, Rus noticed a piece of fine silk cloth tied around her neck. Thin threads hung loose from it, and Rus realised it was spider silk. “What about you, dearie?” the bunny asked, beaming at Rus. “Would you care to try a strawberry tart?” She lifted the pastry delicately. The icing had been painted in the shape of a web, and sprinkled with tiny flakes of glitter. “They’re one of our best sellers.”

“We’re not interested,” Edge said harshly, gripping Rus by the elbow and guiding him away.

“Not even one?” the bunny asked, and Rus detected an odd note of desperation to her tone. “They’re straight from Muffet’s bakery. The very finest!”

Edge came to a standstill, his shoulders tense. He inhaled, before looking at the bunny coldly. “Like I said, we’re not interested in doing business with the Spider.” He turned on his heel sharply, and Rus hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his deliberate stride. He dared a glance back over his shoulder at the bunny. She was standing primly, but Rus noticed an element of fear in her tight posture and the way her eyes darted around nervously.

Somehow, he was grateful when the streets grew busy again.

 

They walked through the bustling town for about an hour before they emerged onto a narrow strait of rock. Far below on either side of the bridge were pans of molten rock, spitting and bubbling magma. Back in Rus’s world, Hotland was home to a volcano, which erupted once every decade. The town would evacuate for a month, then return to fertile lands and lush regrowth. Hotland was famous for its agriculture—thriving despite the hot climate, due to the rain magic provided by Waterfall’s residents.

Here, the land was barren and dry, lifeless, baked by the sulphuric magma that spewed from the ground. All around, there were no signs of flora.

The fumes emitted by the sulphurous pans below weren’t toxic to monsters composed of magic—much less vampires. The heat, however, was almost unbearable. Rus’s breathing became strained and ragged, and his pace slowed. Inexplicably, Edge seemed unaffected by the exhausting heat, despite his heavy attire. He turned, irritated, when Rus stumbled, worn weary by the sweltering heat and choking dust. “Come along, vampire,” Edge said, shortly. “We don’t have time to delay.”

Breathing laboriously, Rus gave him a strained half-nod, dragging his feet along. Edge considered him briefly, and his expression softened a little. “It’s not much further. We’ll be staying at an inn for the day. Then you can rest.”

Rus nodded, lacking the energy to speak. From there, Edge’s pace seemed to slow—just slightly.

 

When at last they reached the other side of the bridge of rock, Rus felt ready to collapse. Ahead of them was an open stretch of road, spanning over the flat terrain. The land was barren and rocky, red dust catching in fleeting sandstorms. Hot, but not quite as hot as the air above the magma beds. Edge allowed Rus a moment to sit down at catch his breath. “this was a lot easier when we had a horse,” Rus brooded, resting his skull atop his knees.

“There’s a small town about a mile down the road,” Edge said, looking up at the paling sky with growing concern—concern that Rus couldn’t help but share. He could feel himself tiring, his bones growing heavy, sensing the impending dawn. “It’s remote enough to be beneath Muffet’s notice. Let’s walk quickly.”

By the time they reached the town, the sky was a hot pink, the sun’s warmth already stirring the land. Rus was relieved when they made it into the shade of the buildings of the small town. Unlike the first town, the streets here were quiet, but for a few pack mules making their morning deliveries.

Beneath the sign of an inn named _The Dusty Planes_ , Edge brought them to a halt. He looped Rus’s chain tighter around his fist and drew him close, catching him by the elbow. “Muffet’s influence may not be as strong here, but I need you to keep your head down,” he murmured, falling quiet when a couple of villagers walked past them. “You attract too much attention, so I’ll need you to play the role of my…” Edge cleared his throat, and realisation dawned on Rus as he glanced at the chain.

“your… servant?”

“A generous way of putting it—but, essentially.”

Rus ducked his head, fists clenching around his arms. “right,” he whispered. “got it.” He followed Edge inside with a heavy pit in his soul.

The tavern was all but deserted, only a few half-awake monsters trudging downstairs for breakfast. The innkeeper—a tall reptilian monster with sharp teeth and curled yellow hair—greeted them with a disinterested look as they approached her desk. She sighed and placed her book on the counter, removing her spectacles. “Room fer two?” she asked, eyeing the chain in Edge’s hand with little more than a lifted eyebrow.

“Yes,” Edge said stiffly, placing a couple of coins on the countertop. Rus noticed his hand flexing around the chain. “We’ll only be staying for the day.”

The innkeeper looked dubious, but only shrugged. Gathering up the coins, she ducked behind the counter. Rus heard cluttering and the chink of metal before she emerged with a key. “Room two,” she said. “Up the stairs, first door on yer right. Enjoy yer stay.” She spoke with monotonous boredom, leaning back in her chair and repositioning her glasses before picking up her book, and returning to ignoring them. Rus hurried to keep up with Edge as he led them upstairs, casting mistrustful looks over his shoulder at the tavern patrons as he walked.

The room was dusty and cramped; stuffy, even this early in the morning. Edge drew the curtains against the sunlight before allowing Rus to enter, and he quickly shut the door behind him, locking it. Rus stood awkwardly in the centre of the small room, eyeing the bed…

The only bed.

“there’s… only one bed,” he pointed out.

Edge scowled as he rummaged through his inventory, producing a (relatively fresh) loaf of bread. Rus assumed he must have received a stock up from Undyne; he’d noticed Edge’s involuntary fast in the days before they’d arrived in Waterfall. Seeing him eat was something of a nagging reminder of his own hunger. He did his best to push back the thought.

Edge sat down on the armchair in the corner and let Rus’s chain fall to the floor, tearing a piece off the bread. “You take the bed,” he said. “I need to keep watch.”

Rus didn’t like that. Though Edge would deny it to his last breath, Rus could tell how exhausted he was. Shadows had formed beneath his sockets, and his eye-lights were dim and saturated. The colour had left his cheekbones entirely, and the magic in his joints had significantly diminished. “you should sleep,” Rus said. “we’ve locked the door—and you said it yourself, muffet doesn’t have people here.”

“Muffet has people everywhere,” Edge said grimly, taking another bite of bread.

“well… i don’t mind taking the first watch,” Rus said softly, nervous to make the suggestion.

He regretted it at once. Edge’s sockets narrowed and he stopped chewing, angling his body to study Rus properly. “Do you take me for a fool, vampire?”

Rus’s fists clenched at his sides. He was tired; worn thin by their travels and Edge’s treatment of him—not to mention the weight of the silver chain still clipped to the collar around his neck. And he was growing frustrated. “my name is rus,” he said, voice low.

Edge considered him with indiscernible scrutiny, and Rus crumpled beneath his piercing gaze, sinking onto the bed. “i’m not going to hurt you, silver knight,” he said, more exasperated than angry. “i take you for a fool because you assume that. because you’re warier of me than you are of the creatures all around you who would murder you sooner than i would. i would not see you brought to harm. though you’ve given me plenty of reason to.” He uttered the last part beneath his breath, though he was sure Edge still heard him.

Edge studied Rus, his face all composure and hard lines. Even at rest, leaning back in the armchair, breaking pieces off his loaf of bread—his demeanour spoke of danger. The dagger at his belt drew Rus’s gaze, as it always did, and he shrunk further in on himself, suddenly wishing he hadn’t been so brazen. Edge stood up, and Rus cowered slightly as he approached.

But instead of the expected punishment, he crouched and unclipped the chain from Rus’s collar. His gaze lingered on Rus’s neck for a moment, the tips of his fingers brushing the silver studded leather that bound him. Then he rose and sat back in his chair, his mask returning. “Go to sleep, Rus,” he said, quietly.

 

****

 

Rus awoke to the chirping of insects and the bawdy noises coming from the tavern downstairs. Outside the window, it was dark. Night had fallen. His eyes wandered across the room and fell on Edge. He was still in the armchair, but he’d fallen asleep, head resting on his shoulder.

Sleep softened the tension from his face, and stole the hard mask of discontent. He didn’t quite look peaceful, but he was somehow… freer. Less subdued. There was innocence there too—and trust. Trust Rus had never seen in him in waking.

The minutes passed by quietly, and Edge’s eyes sockets opened, his eye-lights blinking into existence. In the dark, they were like two red pin-pricks; fierce and intense. Shock momentarily crossed his features when his gaze landed on Rus—but it quickly morphed back to the typical stoicism with which he presented himself. Surprisingly though, he didn’t look away from Rus right away. He scanned him for a few seconds, studying his features in silence.

Rus felt a shiver pass through him when Edge’s eye-lights lingered on his fangs just a split second too long to be normal.

 

Edge reattached the chain to Rus’s collar before they headed downstairs. Rus couldn’t prevent the sinking feeling in his soul, but he collected himself and followed Edge wordlessly.

Unlike it had been that morning, the tavern was packed. There were throngs of monsters sitting at the tables and crossing the floor with drinks in their hands. Once again, Rus’s senses were assaulted by the numerous different scents of magic. He stuck close to Edge (not that it helped—Edge’s scent was enticing, too).

Rus was so distracted trying to muffle everyone’s scents in his sleeve, that he almost walked into Edge when he came to a sudden halt in the middle of the tavern. Rus glanced at him, frowning. His gaze was fixed on the door, tension lining his features. “She knows we’re here,” Edge said quietly, taking Rus by the arm and pulling him closer.

“she…?”

“The Spider,” Edge half-spat. “Her spies are all around us. Look.”

Rus blinked, glancing around, expecting to see swarms of spiderlings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “what?”

“Look at the ties around their necks—spider silk.” Upon closer inspection, Rus realised Edge was right. Scattered among the other patrons were numerous monsters wearing the familiar neckties Rus had seen on the bunny who had tried to sell them pastries the previous night. Neat, silver, woven of spider silk. They were everywhere.

“It’s her mark,” Edge said. “She owns them. They’re working for her, and that means they’ll do anything to stay alive.”

“what do we do?” Rus whispered, cringing beneath the scrutiny of the eyes on them. He felt vulnerable suddenly—weak and exposed.

Edge’s fist tightened around his chain and he breathed. “Can you teleport?” he asked, though the question lacked confidence.

“unlikely,” Rus said—reminded, suddenly, of the itch in his throat.

Edge swallowed, looking conflicted. He glanced over his shoulder at the stairs down which they’d come. “Would magic help?”

Rus stilled, shocked. “yes…”

Taking a shuddering breath, Edge nodded. “Good. Because we might need to—”

He broke off as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He spun, magic flaring at his palms, but the monster who had interrupted them only laughed gruffly, removing their hand. “Looks like you’re in a spot of trouble here, Edgy,” they said in a coarse, gravelly voice.

Rus looked up at the monster. They were large and burly, towering above both Edge and himself—two heads taller, and at least twice as wide. They were clad in heavy, polished armour—far too elegant to have come from Hotland, Rus mused. They must have been from the Capital. Their red cloak was long and silky, and a heavy gold claymore hung at their hilt. They exuded strength, and Rus knew without a Check that their LV must be high. Instinctively, he inched closer to Edge.

“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you’re talking about, guard,” Edge said, apparently unaffected by the daunting size of the other monster.

The guard laughed. “I know the Spider’s looking for you,” they said. They glanced around the room, then back at Edge, humming. “Seems she’s found you.”

Edge inhaled, stiffening. “What’s it to you? Here to collect a reward?” The magic at his hand brightened, and he took a defensive stance, shielding Rus. “I can promise you, you won’t be getting one.”

“A protector of the land?” The guard said. “After money? It’s against our code of honour.” Edge rolled his eye-lights at that, but the guard went on. “I think we can strike up a fair deal—one that earns you safe passage through Hotland. What do you say?” Rus noticed the guard’s eyes flickering in his direction through their visor, and he shuddered.

“You expect me to trust you?” Edge asked. “Forgive me, but I’ve had enough experience with the ‘protectors of the land’.”

“Well, as it so happens,” the guard said, leaning in. “You’re out of options.” They were right, Rus realised—and Edge seemed to realise it too, glancing around the room with a look of defeat. The guard laughed condescendingly, then said, “Come, Edgy. Why don’t you sit down with me? Have a drink. Let off some steam.”

Edge looked as if he’d sooner bathe in a pool of magma, but as the guard had pointed out—his options were limited. Monsters bearing Muffet’s signature still lurked near the doorways, their eyes hovering on Edge and Rus. Stiffly, Edge took a hold of Rus’s arm and grudgingly followed the guard to one of the corner tables. They sat down opposite each other, and no one spoke. Rus could still see sparks of magic prickling at Edge’s fingertips.

A bar maid wandered over to them and placed three flagons on their table. Rus eyed the frothy liquid inside his, and was reminded of his hunger. His throat was still dry, and although normal monster food wasn’t enough to sustain him, consuming it didn’t hurt. Tentatively, he reached for his flagon—but Edge caught his wrist. “Don’t drink it,” he warned, quiet enough for the guard not to hear. Rus let his hand fall, disappointed.

The guard gulped down their own drink without hesitation, lifting their visor just enough to drink, while keeping their face concealed. Edge tapped his fingers on the table in irritation, shooting anxious glances around the room. “Our deal?” he reminded them.

“Ah. Yes.” The guard placed their empty flagon on the table and let their visor drop. “I can offer you safe passage through Hotland. As a Capital guard, I’m quite good at providing protection.”

“Naturally,” Edge said, flatly. “But I know you aren’t doing this for free. What do you ask in return? I… if it’s money you’re after—”

“Not money,” the guard said. “But, I do have a price.” They glanced at Rus, and their gaze travelled down the chain hooked to his collar. “That’s pure silver, isn’t it? Hard to come by these days.”

Edge’s hand flexed around the chain, but he nodded. “It is.”

“That sort of thing could buy you more than just money.”

“I’m certain,” Edge said, dryly. “Do we have a deal, then?”

“I’ll take the chain,” the guard said, nodding. “But, I had something else in mind too.”

Rus’s soul plummeted as the guard looked at him. He shrunk closer to Edge’s side, trying to make himself unassuming. To his relief, Edge had a similar reaction, drawing him closer. “No,” he said, firmly. “He’s not for sale.”

“I don’t want to buy him. I want to rent him. Just… for an hour or two. Then you can have him back.”

Rus closed his eyes and tried to control the way his bones rattled. _No. Not this. Anything but this. Edge wouldn’t. There was no way,_ surely _Edge wouldn’t—_

“Deal,” Edge said. Rus’s eye sockets snapped open and he stared at Edge, horrified, but Edge wasn’t looking at him, his face a cool mask of indifference.

“e-edge,” Rus whispered, his voice trembling. “you can’t—y-you’re not—”

“Silence, pet,” Edge growled. Looking at the guard firmly, he said, “Do what you wish with him, but I want him unscathed.”

The guard chuckled, surveying Rus. “No promises there.”

The table shook as Edge brought his fist down, magic sparking beneath it. “Do _not_ damage him. Or you can be certain you’ll no longer have use for the whores you hire.”

The guard lifted their hands defensively. “Alright. If you insist.” They reached across the table, and Rus yanked his hand away sharply as their fingers brushed it. “Aw, there’s no need to be afraid, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

Rus closed his eyes, breathing shallowly. Tears beaded at his sockets. He felt sick.

“We have a room upstairs,” Edge said. “Will that do?”

“Perfect,” said the guard, standing.

Rus remained seated, frozen in horror. He flinched when Edge tugged on the chain—still fastened to his collar. “Come, pet. Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Rus looked up at Edge, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Edge’s expression was hard and blank, conveying nothing. No regret or remorse, no shame or sorrow. Nothing. He didn’t care.

Moving automatically, Rus stood and followed Edge upstairs, the guard just behind them. He tried not to think about them—tried not to think about anything. But still, he could hear them; their footsteps, their breathing, their soft words. “You’re a pretty one, aren’t you, dear?” they said, reaching out. Rus flinched away from their hand, and they chuckled quietly. “Always had a thing fer the pretty ones. Don’t see many a’ them ‘round these parts.” The guard spoke quietly, almost as if to themself. Rus pondered on the strange slip in accent, but didn’t linger on the thought. His problems were far more pressing.

He stumbled on the stairs, and Edge caught him, guiding him swiftly into the bedroom. “edge,” he whispered, desperately. “please. don’t make me do this.” Edge stared at him without a trace of emotion—but there was something intense and deliberate behind his gaze, as if he was trying to communicate something.

He said nothing though, only addressing the guard when they entered. “I need to feed my pet before you can use him. He’s weak. He’ll need his strength.”

“Sure will,” the guard said, laughing. Rus noticed the corner of Edge’s mouth twitching downward.

“Yes,” he said, dryly. “So if you’ll leave us—”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” the guard said. “Do what you need with your little vampire. I’m not shy.”

A beat of silence rang loud in the room. _The guard knew that he was a vampire…_

“That wasn’t part of our deal,” Edge said, dangerously quiet.

The guard didn’t look deterred. They took a seat on the armchair Edge had been sleeping in not half an hour ago, leaning back with a shrug. “It is now.” Edge looked conflicted, glancing between Rus and the door. “You’re welcome to leave and let me have him as is,” the guard said. “I’m not fussy.”

Despite being empty, Rus’s soul churned. His fists shook at his sides and he hugged himself, trying to remember to breathe. At last, Edge nodded, sighing deeply. “Fine. Ru—pet.” He beckoned Rus over to him, giving the chain a weak pull. Rus walked without thinking, his mind working mechanically. To his surprise, Edge unclipped the chain— _and_ the collar. He let the chain drop to the floor and stored the collar away in his inventory. “He feeds better without it,” he explained to the guard, who shrugged, before returning his gaze to Rus. Again, something unspoken flickered in his eyes.

Edge unwound his scarf, exposing his neck—and immediately, Rus was hit by his scent. The savoury-sweet warmth that was _oh so familiar,_ and Rus’s fangs extended, eager to taste Edge’s magic again. “Rus…” Edge’s voice sounded distant, barely penetrating Rus’s subconscious. “Rus… you understand what you’re doing?”

Rus nodded without thought, stepping closer. He couldn’t focus on anything but the flow of magic through Edge’s joints, suddenly brighter, more vibrant, more _delicious_. He pressed Edge against the wall— _too rough,_ a voice in the back of his head told him. He ignored it. He ran his fangs over Edge’s neck, even as Edge clutched at the back of his skull, trying to ease him, slow him down.

But Rus didn’t want to slow down. What reason did he have to grant Edge any more chances? He’d expended them. He’d run out. Rus owed him nothing. _Nothing._ After all he’d put Rus through, Rus was done. This was it. His opportunity to escape. To leave Edge for good. He wouldn’t stay—he _wouldn’t._ Not for this.

He was faintly aware of Edge’s whispers, but the words didn’t translate in his head. With nothing to hold him back, he bit down— _hard._

The sound Edge made was somewhere between a choke and a whimper, his bone cracking in a way that _had_ to have been painful. Rus didn’t care. Not anymore. He just needed enough magic to teleport, or to incapacitate Edge… or to drain him entirely.

Rus didn’t think—didn’t _care._ He just drank. Hot magic flooded him and he sighed as his soul began to absorb it. It flowed through his body, releasing the tension from his joints. He drank deeper, eager for more. He’d been starving for days, and Edge’s magic had been on his mind. And now, he could indulge.

 

_You’re in control, Papy._

Rus ignored the voice. He didn’t need it. Not now.

 

_Stop._

Rus kept drinking. He could feel Edge pushing against him, but his struggles were weak. Rus didn’t stop. His soul glowed with magic—more than enough for a teleport. He kept going. Edge slumped, leaning heavily against Rus—but Rus kept drinking.

Drinking until his soul was saturated with Edge’s magic. His body burned with it. Alive and strong and _free._ Rus was no longer Edge’s prisoner, his captive, his _pet._

Too much. It was _too much—_ and yet it wasn’t enough.

The flow of Edge’s magic began to weaken…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****SPOILERS BELOW****
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> A spoiler, but I think it's necessary for me to provide assurance: Edge did NOT actually intend to sell Rus to be raped. More details will be revealed in the next chapter, but I thought I ought to make this clear.
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> Additionally--note that this fic is NOT tagged for Major Character Death (in case you were worried).


	10. The Spider and the Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spider collects her debt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains attempted rape as well as a lot of non-consensual touching and generally uncomfortable themes.**
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> To skip the attempted sexual assault, stop reading when you reach the first **xxx** and start again when you reach the second **xxx**. However, there is still a lot of unwanted touching and general creepiness in the first scene, so skip straight to the second **xxx** if you need to.
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> Additionally, there will be a summary of this chapter at the beginning of the next chapter if you feel you need to skip this chapter entirely.
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>  **Warnings:** Attempted rape, non-consensual touching, non-consensual biting, temporary paralysis, graphic depictions of violence, arachnophobia, breaking bones, poisoning, description of veins, stabbing.  
>  Heavy emphasis on how important it is for anyone to let me know if I've missed any tags.

_if ya let a vampire get its fangs inta ya, yer as good as dust._

 

“Rus…” Edge clawed uselessly at Rus’s skull, his struggles feeble. He’d lost too much magic already. He had no strength remaining. “… stop.” Even his words lacked essence, barely a whisper in the still room. He could feel his lifeforce slipping away…

And yet somehow, in the midst of his own certain demise, Edge felt pleasant. Numb, but comfortable. Weak, but calm. Rus’s venom spread from his neck downward, soaking his nodes and relaxing his body. Though the sane part of his mind urged him to protest—to at least _try_ and fight back—he felt quite content to succumb, and let himself drift off.

In his daze, he thought of Snowdin. Not as it was now, but as it had been in his childhood. He thought of sparring with his brother in unused barns and abandoned farmlands. He remembered the first time they’d played in the snow together, and the first time his brother had returned home from a hunt. Before his training had begun. The memories flooded him, and he basked in them.

And then they were gone.

Edge was pulled sharply back to reality, immediately noticing the absence of Rus’s fangs. He’d been propped haphazardly against the foot of the bed, slumped, his body too weak to hold him up. Rus was standing above him, looking panicked. “edge, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean—i shouldn’t have…”

Edge tried to reach for Rus, but his fingers barely twitched. “R…s…” He was too sluggish to enunciate his words, the sound nothing more than a gurgle. _Teleport us,_ he wanted to say. _Get us out of here._ He could see the Royal Guard standing behind Rus—they were saying something, but their words were lost in the cotton that filled Edge’s skull. His vision was already darkening around the edges, hazing out of focus.

“i’m sorry, edge, i have to go. i have to—i won’t hurt you anymore. i can’t…” Rus’s voice faded, becoming muffled and incoherent. Edge stared up at him, but he could barely see him. His bones felt like lead—hollow lead. He couldn’t move. He was empty, drained.

He looked up again and found that Rus had disappeared. He was gone. That should have pleased Edge, right? Rus had tried to kill him… had succeeded. Edge should want him gone.

The Royal Guard was shouting, but Edge couldn’t make sense of what they were saying. He felt his body being lifted… and then he slipped into darkness.

 

****

 

_remember, bro, don’ let yer fear control you._

Giving up was easy. Letting go. Allowing himself to drift to whatever plane of existence came next. It may have served him well to do so. To let go of all the troubles life came with. To free himself of the burdens and worries of staying alive.

But Edge had always been stubborn. He fought the weight of sleep, and became aware of a tingling sensation at his neck. It wasn’t entirely comfortable—but it wasn’t unpleasant either. Bordering between too much and not enough. It was all Edge could feel.

And then… warmth, which slowly grew to heat. Dancing across Edge’s bones and face, making him sweat. Next came the too-sweet smell of sugar and flowers, then the soft chirping of insects and birds.

Edge opened his sockets and squinted against the light. He searched his surroundings as they gradually came into focus.

He was sitting in a garden. Lush with hundreds of different flowering species. Trees and bushes grew around him, ripe with strange silver fruit. A rainbow of colours danced off the flora and a glance upward revealed a ceiling made of stained glass. In front of him was a long table bearing too much food to take note of—pastries, cakes, tarts, muffins, doughnuts, and a few Edge didn’t recognise.

There was a light cough, and it was then that Edge realised he wasn’t alone. He looked up; sitting across from him was—

“Hello, Edgy dearie~” Muffet trilled, her thin purple mouth curling into a smile. “How lovely of you to finally join us.”

Edge’s first instinct was to reach for his magic. He tried to lift his hand—but was hindered by the sticky web binding his wrists to the chair. He looked up at Muffet sharply, sockets widening in panic. She leaned forward and rested her chin delicately on top of her hands. “Aren’t you looking lovely?” she said, simpering. “It’s been far too long. You’ve grown up nicely. Very nicely, dear.”

Her depthless black eyes wandered the length of his body, and Edge realised his armour had been replaced by a light silk robe. Out of reflex, he moved his arms to try and cover himself, but the webs held fast. His chest was almost bare, the robe providing little coverage for his upper half. His feet were bare too. He could feel the grass beneath them.

He stared at Muffet, though holding eye contact with her made his chest clench unpleasantly. She was too calm, too satisfied with herself. “What do you want?” Edge asked, his voice emerging raspy.

Muffet tilted her head, studying him curiously. She leaned back, indicating the food laid out on the table in front of her. “Why don’t you eat something?” she asked. “You still have a lot of magic to restore.”

It occurred to Edge then, that… Well. He wasn’t dead. And in fact, he could feel that his HP hovered rather comfortably above half, magic greasing his joints. He didn’t like to think what Muffet might have fed him to replenish it. “Not hungry,” he said, flatly. “Why am I here?”

Muffet considered him, biting into a cupcake. “Consider yourself an honoured guest, dearie,” she said, pleasantly, wiping the frosting from her mouth with a delicately folded napkin. “It’s been so long. Too long. I’ve missed you.” She smiled and Edge’s chest lurched.

“For good reason,” Edge said, tightly. “I don’t work for you.”

“Not anymore,” Muffet said, sighing. “A pity. You were one of my favourites.” The sparkle in her black eyes made Edge shudder. She watched him in silence, and he didn’t dare look away. Didn’t dare submit. He met her gaze head on, unwavering, despite the pit of nausea in his soul.

After she’d finished her cupcake, Muffet stood and leaned across the table, cupping Edge’s face with two hands. “You’ve picked up a few scars,” she remarked, more observant than remorseful. She trailed a finger over the deep one that cut through his left socket, then hesitated when she reached his neck. Her fingers hovered, half an inch above the fresh bite wound. Drawing back, she let her hand rest back on his cheekbone again, smiling. “They suit you.” Her claws raked across his face— _too hard—_ before she pulled away. Her hands left behind a crawling feeling on the bone.

“How long do you intend to play games with me?” Edge asked, blandly. “I was hoping to be home for dinner.”

“Oh, you will be,” Muffet said. “One way or another.” She eyed him, walking towards her garden and plucking a piece of fruit Edge didn’t recognise from one of the bushes. Silver juice spilled from down her chin as she bit into it. “Care for a bite?” she asked Edge. He tensed as she came to stand behind his chair, leaning over and sliding her hands down his chest. “It’s delicious.” He felt her breath against his skull as she inhaled. “Much like yourself.”

Edge rolled his eyes but remained painstakingly still as Muffet’s hands wandered him. Droplets of silver spilled into his lap as she took another bite from the fruit. The liquid looked familiar. Edge frowned.

“You’ve seen it before,” Muffet observed. “I traded it to you. Though, the portion I gave you was far more concentrated than this.” She took another bite of the fruit. “It should have been enough to kill that beast you’ve been parading around.” There was a note of bitterness to her tone, and the admission stunned Edge.

He gathered himself, swallowing. “The King allows you to grow silver fruit?” he asked, feigning impassivity.

Muffet tittered and placed the half-eaten fruit on the tablecloth. She leaned over his shoulder again, running her hands beneath his robe. “Oh, dearie. He’s my best customer.”

The confession chilled Edge just as much as Muffet’s wandering hands. What use did the King have for silver fruit? Silver was deadly to vampires, and the King’s entire pitch advocated for the protection of vampires…

And more to the point—why would Muffet tell Edge such a well-guarded secret? Deep down, he knew… she had no intention of letting him live long enough to breath a word of it to anyone outside of this place.

 

_don’t let fear control you._

“Let’s forego the small talk and get to the point, shall we?” Edge said, breathing slowly to keep his voice steady. “I owe you money.”

Muffet’s hands stilled on his chest, and she laughed softly. “Oh, dearie, you think this is about money?” Edge frowned, but didn’t reply. “You stole from me, yes, but it was never about money. I was doing you a favour—and now I want you to do me one in return. That’s all.”

“I don’t do favours for you anymore.” Edge shivered when Muffet hooked her fingers beneath his ribs, stroking them lightly. What should have been a pleasant sensation only made his marrow curdle. He may have mistaken the gesture for affection, but Edge knew too well that this was only part of her game. One of her strategies to throw him off kilter, so that she could sculpt him to fulfil her whims.

“But you will,” she said, breathing against his acoustic meatus. “You’ll do this for me.”

“Try me,” Edge hissed through his teeth as she nipped at his shoulder.

They both turned at the sound of creaking hinges. Beneath the underbrush on the other side of the table, a trapdoor swung open, and a Knight Knight emerged. “Miss Muffet—”

“What did I say about interrupting me?” Muffet hissed, pulling back from Edge sharply. He shuddered as her claws raked across his chest.

The Knight Knight looked apprehensive. “My apologies, Miss Muffet. But I have dire news.”

Edge frowned. He recognised that voice…

It struck him. It belonged to the ‘Royal Guard’ he’d made a deal with at the Dusty Planes. The Knight Knights had defected from the Royal Guard to join Muffet’s ranks long ago. Edge cursed himself for being so naïve. Though he’d never intended to uphold his end of the bargain, he’d assumed the Guard had only been in it for the gold (… and the vampire, his mind supplied, grimly). But he’d been playing right into Muffet’s hand.

“Well? What is the news?” Muffet asked impatiently. “Don’t waste my time. My pet is hungry.” Her many eyes flickered to Edge as she spoke.

“The vampire,” the Knight Knight said, “we weren’t able to apprehend it.” She fell silent, the eye at her torso wide and fearful. For a moment, Muffet said nothing, but there was a twitch in her expression. “M-Miss Muffet,” the Knight Knight stammered. “We—I tried. I pursued it all night, but it was too quick. And it could teleport—”

“I would advise you be quicker next time,” Muffet interrupted, inhaling crisply.

The eye at the Knight Knight’s torso blinked. “I—I will. I will, Miss Muffet, I—”

“I would,” Muffet said. “But I’m afraid your service ends here, dearie.”

The Knight Knight’s expression morphed to terror, and Edge figured this was more than just a dismissal. “What? No, _please,_ I—”

Muffet had already turned away from her. “Oh, pet!” she called up to the canopy of trees. “I have a treat for you~”

Edge looked up and froze, a scream catching in his throat as horror rippled down his spine. A great, eight-legged beast was descending from the trees above him. It was at least the size of a horse-drawn carriage, and the bough it hung from groaned beneath its weight. _Had it been up there the entire time?_

Edge flinched as it landed a few feet away from him with a thud. It chittered happily as Muffet stroked its head. “Are you hungry, pet?” Muffet crooned. She eyed the Knight Knight, who was quaking where she stood. “Just the legs, pet,” Muffet said. “If she can’t catch one vampire, she has no use for them. I release you from my service, dear,” she added, barely glancing at the Knight Knight.

“ _No_ ,” the Knight Knight choked, already scrambling to open the trapdoor.

“Go on, pet,” Muffet said. “She’s yours.” Her pet lunged forward. The Knight Knight screamed, giving up on the trapdoor and running for the trees. She didn’t make it far. The beast pounced on her and caught her legs in its pincers.

Edge looked away, squeezing his sockets closed. Nothing could block out the sounds, though. The Knight Knight’s wretched gurgles and the wet tearing of flesh. A startled whimper broke out of his throat when he felt Muffet’s delicate fingers on his arm. “Oh, I know, dearie. My pet is a little primitive.” Her voice held fondness. “She doesn’t have the patience to savour her prey and drain the life from it slowly. I’ve been trying to teach her, but…”

Edge stared at her, horrified and disgusted. Yet she smiled. “But come along. You don’t need to see this.” Her words were punctuated by a sickening crunch of armour and bone. Bile rose in Edge’s throat. “Let’s get you inside.”

 

Edge might have been able to fight Muffet had she not bound his hands tightly before escorting him out of the garden. But the hopeless reality was that he was trapped here. Her lair was an intricate series of underground passages, guarded at every corner. And even if by some miracle Edge managed to escape, her spies were everywhere. It wouldn’t be long before he was back in her clutches.

He was a fly, caught in her web.

It came as a surprise when Muffet led him into a bedroom, instead of the expected chamber she used to deal with dissidents. Edge had become familiar with the darker corners of Muffet’s web, but never her private space—much less her own elegant quarters.

“What is this?” Edge asked. Something wasn’t right. Suspicion crept down his spine, and his bones tingled with anxious magic.

“We’re here to discuss your favour, dearie,” Muffet told him as she rested him on the bed. He fought her, but she was strong—stronger than even he was. She pinned him down easily and secured his wrists to the headboard with more sticky web. Edge felt on display with nothing but the meagre silk robe web to cover him. Muffet slipped it off his shoulder and her black eyes wandered to his clavicle. The delight in them was hardly restrained.

She crossed the room and opened the dresser. Edge felt his soul plummet as she drew out a knife— _his_ knife. She smiled at him as she turned, running her finger along the flat edge of the blade. “Fine workmanship,” she said. “And pure silver, too. Quite the rarity.”

Edge inhaled, but said nothing, though his fingers itched for his knife.

Amusement danced across Muffet’s expression. “I’ll gladly return it to you, dearie. I understand how precious such a thing must be.” She approached the bedside and placed the knife on the end table. Leaning in, she whispered, “And perhaps I’ll even allow you to kill that creature yourself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dearie? After all it’s done to you.” She touched his neck, and Edge felt the bite flaring, like a reminder of the vampire’s presence. Muffet moved her hand away, avoiding the wound.

“Something to drink?” she offered, picking up the jug from the table beside the bed. Edge didn’t answer, but she poured him a glass anyway. “The finest wine,” she told him. “Procured from the King’s very own vineyards.” She pressed the glass to his teeth and he turned his head away. “Drink, dearie. You need to restore your HP.”

Edge knew whatever fight he put up would be futile. But he would fight nonetheless. Though despair had his soul in a tight grip, he pushed the feelings back. There _had_ to be a way out of this—there always was. He couldn’t fight her physically, but maybe he could negotiate.

“You said you wanted me to do you a favour,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He couldn’t give her the upper hand in their negotiation… although, given his compromising position, that was going to prove difficult.

Muffet placed the glass of wine back on its tray, and smiled. “A service would better describe it.”

That hardly boded well. Still, Edge remained impassive. “And what does this _service_ entail?” He wanted to know if this would require getting his hands… dusty. And whose dust it might be. He’d killed for Muffet in the past, but it had taken years to detach himself from those kills. It was not something he’d gladly agree to again—but given his circumstances, he didn’t exactly have options.

**xxx**

Sour magic rose to Edge’s mouth when Muffet’s lips curled. She saved that smile for things that truly thrilled her. And the ‘things’ that thrilled Muffet seldom escaped without scars. Edge stared, frozen, as she climbed onto the bed and knelt over him. “I remember the days when you served me, dearie,” she said, silkily, running her thumb over his cheekbone. “Those were good days. I want them back.”

Edge was trying very hard not to think about his position—reclined and sprawled on the bed, Muffet kneeling over him like he was one of her toys. _It’s just part of her game,_ he reminded himself. _She’s just trying to unsettle you._ “One favour,” he said, firmly. “One favour for the items you traded me, nothing more. Then we’re done. For good.” Edge had been stupid to do business with the Spider in the first place. Desperate—but stupid. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Magic soured in his mouth when Muffet’s eyes glinted with excitement. She cupped his skull and leaned down, kissing his teeth. Edge choked, startled. She had toyed with him like this before, but she’d never taken things this far. He could feel her cold tongue pressing against his teeth, demanding entrance. Edge was shaking. He tried to turn his head away to escape her invasive mouth but she had two hands holding his skull in place, and his efforts were futile.

When Muffet pulled away at last, Edge stared at her, horrified. He opened his mouth, trying to find words, but he could only stammer. Muffet laughed lightly, pressing a hand over her mouth—that _mouth_. Edge’s chest cavity was churning with bile and acidic magic. He felt foul and dirty. He wanted to cleanse his teeth with boiling water. He could feel the remnants of her saliva on his teeth—almost _taste_ it.

Muffet leaned down again and Edge tensed—but instead of kissing him, she pressed her lips against his acoustic meatus. “I think this is a favour we can both enjoy,” she whispered, her tongue flicking against his skull. “Don’t you, dearie?”

Edge shook his head firmly, trembling as she drew away. “No,” he choked. “This isn’t what I agreed to. This is _not—_ ”

“Oh, but you did, dearie,” Muffet said, stroking away the tears that beaded at his sockets. “You agreed to do me a favour.”

“Not this.” Edge’s voice barely left his throat, dry and raspy.

“Relax, my sweet Edge,” Muffet purred, pressing her lips to his neck. “I think you’ll find that you quite enjoy yourself—maybe even as much as I do.” She giggled again, and bitter mana trickled into Edge’s mouth.

He lay stiff and unyielding as she licked his vertebrae. Her tongue felt sickly against his neck, wet and unwelcome. She moved down to his clavicle and he suppressed a broken whimper as she began to nip at it, the bites delicate and gentle. _Wrong._ He could handle beatings, or pain, or even killing nameless monsters. But this was something else entirely. It was intimate. It was personal. And it was being taken away from him _._

Edge had never done this with anyone. He’d never trusted anyone enough to reveal this part of himself to them. He’d never been encapsulated by the desire to feel the touch of another monster. Such an act demanded trust, respect… love. Muffet had none of those things. Not from Edge. And here she was, _taking_ it from him.

“Stop,” he growled, even though the word cracked in his throat and emerged broken. “Don’t—” He tried to struggle, kicking his legs and wrenching his arms against the webs that bound them.

A subtle hiss left Muffet’s mouth and she looked up at him, frustrated. “You’re making this very difficult, dearie,” she said, tersely. She moved to straddle Edge’s hips, and he fought her all the way. She easily held him down. “Stop moving,” she warned, pressing four of her arms to his ribcage and hips to keep him still.

“I’m not doing this,” Edge said, trying to inject more vehemence into his voice. “This was not the deal. You can’t—”

“I _can._ ” Muffet sounded almost angry now, though the sweet smile that crossed her face belied her tone. She sighed breezily and threaded her fingers between Edge’s ribs, stroking them delicately. He jerked beneath the touch, and her smile grew. “I love the ones that fight,” she murmured, looking at him fondly. “I love seeing them struggle, clinging to hope no matter how little of it there is. That’s part of why you were always one of my favourites, Edgy dearie. You’re a fighter.”

Edge opened his mouth to retort but was stopped short when Muffet crouched and sunk her fangs into his clavicle. He choked weakly as she moved to his ribs and bit down again. He could feel her venom flowing through him like cold acid. Strangely, he was reminded of the vampire’s venom.

But this was nothing like that. Where the vampire’s bite had left him warm and comfortable and relaxed, this was like a burning river of ice flooding his marrow. It seared through him and made him go stiff. He could feel everything Muffet was doing to him, but his body was rigid and unmovable. If there had been hope of fighting back before, it was now vanquished.

Edge tried to speak but his words were a gurgle in his throat. Muffet sat up and studied him, something almost sympathetic in her eyes. “Oh, sweet Edgy,” she crooned, caressing his jaw. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that. No matter. You’ll still enjoy yourself.” She slipped the robe off his shoulders and began kissing them. A motionless shudder passed through Edge. He could do nothing.

He lay still. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut off at least one of his senses, but terror kept them open. He stared at the canopy of the bed. Violet silk draped across the bedposts, threaded with silver web. The room was silent, but for Muffet’s quiet hums of satisfaction, and the wet sound of her mouth against Edge’s clavicle.

He felt like a prisoner in his own body, forced to watch as it was violated.

Muffet’s teeth found his neck. She was gentle, running her fingers down his ribs as she nibbled at his vertebrae. Edge felt her hesitate at the bite wounds on his neck, her cold breaths ghosting over the bone—but not touching. She resumed, working her way around the puncture wounds. They flared hot on Edge’s neck, a contrast to the bitter cold of Muffet’s saliva.

“You won’t remember it.”

Edge almost didn’t register the words, until Muffet spoke again. “You won’t remember that creature once we’re finished, dearie. I’ll have it slaughtered for you. I’ll defang it and drive silver into its soul. I’ll scatter its dust over my hemlock. Its taste would hardly be satisfactory for my bakery. I’ll undo what it did to you.” Her fingers wandered delicately over Edge’s neck, avoiding the bite wound. “I’ll make it pay.”

Tears pooled in Edge’s sockets.

 _be brave,_ Red had taught him. _when faced with a vampire, don’ let yerself show fear. be strong._

But this wasn’t a vampire. This was a mortal monster, and Edge was powerless to stop it from taking what it wanted from him.

 _You never taught me this, Red,_ Edge thought. _You never taught me that the world has demons worse than vampires._

Edge’s chest lurched sickeningly as Muffet slid the robe away from his legs, exposing his pelvis. He made a final attempt at protesting, trying to struggle out of her grip. His body only twitched.

Muffet purred as she licked his hip, trailing down and biting his tailbone. The stimulation made his hips twitch reflexively and Muffet hummed, smiling at him. “I knew you wanted this, dearie,” she said, lifting her head to stroke his face. “My delicious pet.”

Edge finally closed his eyes as her fingers began to wander his ilium. He ignored the sensations, and the magic that flared through his bones. At his neck, the vampire’s bite tingled warmly. He focused on it, dissociating himself from every other feeling passing through his body.

**xxx**

Instead, he thought of Rus.

_Rus’s fangs on his neck, Rus cradled him his arms as he drank, Rus’s freshly fed golden eyes. Edge’s mind drifted…_

… and then, Muffet was gone.

Edge’s sockets snapped open in time to see her being dragged off him. She hissed and clawed at the arms that grasped her, and both she and her assailant toppled to the ground. Muffet sprung to her feet immediately, while the other monster scrambled away—

It was Rus.

Edge felt sick with relief. His chest and throat and _soul_ seized up all at once and the tears in his eyes became ones of joy. A choke escaped him and Rus caught his eye for half a second before Muffet was on him. He stumbled backwards as she shoved him hard against the wall, the plaster cracking beneath the weight of his fall. Though Edge knew it would take silver to kill him, the sight of Rus— _delicate, gentle Rus_ —taking such a heavy physical blow, was jarring.

_He’s not hurt. It won’t kill him._

Muffet seemed to realise this too. Her eyes flickered to the Edge’s blade at the bedside, and Rus used her moment of distraction to teleport across the room. Briefly stunned, Muffet spun in search of him, her black eyes glistening with violence. She made a lunge for the knife at the same time as Rus teleported toward it.

Muffet’s fingers closed around it first and she slashed out.

Edge’s breath caught in horror as the knife grazed the air near Rus’s throat. _So close. One hit and he’s dead._ But Rus was quick. He moved like fire, flickering across the room before Muffet could get near him. Flashes of red magic followed him as he moved. _Edge’s magic._

Muffet began to grow frustrated. She hissed and lashed out erratically, the knife narrowly missing Rus each time.

Edge watched them move, like a blur before his eyes. Muffet had strength on her side. Her LV was high—high enough to bolster her physical strength as well as her magical strength. But Rus had speed. He was agile and light on his feet, always just a split second ahead of Muffet.

But he was growing tired. Edge could tell by the pale sheen of sweat that coated his skull, and the way his movements began to lag.

This wasn’t a fight he could win. The realisation struck Edge painfully.

Muffet was on the offensive now, and Rus had nothing to fight back with. Vampires were made to seduce and trick their prey—to out-manoeuvre, not out-muscle. _Rus couldn’t win._ The dread came creeping back, and Edge’s body twitched, desperate to jump in and protect Rus—to hold him close, _keep him safe._

The next swing of the knife caught Rus’s shoulder, tearing his sleeve. A breathless whimper left Edge, and with all his strength, he tried to fight the sedating venom in his bones. His body twitched.

Muffet’s next attack was hard and heavy, and Rus used the moment to unbalance her, knocking one of her legs out from under her. She caught herself before she hit the floor, but the knife fell from her hand and went sliding across the room.

For a second, Rus had the upper hand.

But the move had put him in a vulnerable position—and as she always did, Muffet capitalised. She caught him around the torso with four arms, dragging him against her and pinning him. Rus gasped out a choke as she squeezed his neck, pulling him to the floor and wrapping all eight of her legs around him, strangling any attempts at movement.

Muffet’s expression was strained, but there was a satisfaction beneath it. Her eyes were on Edge as she crushed Rus’s neck, strangling the life out of him, _breaking_ him. _This is for you,_ her eyes said, and bile rose up with Edge’s tears.

He could tell that Rus was trying to struggle, but Muffet’s arms stifled all movement, her grip strong enough to shatter him. Edge heard Rus’s raspy cry of pain before he heard the first bone breaking. Then the second. Muffet locked Edge’s gaze, and smiled.

_Stars, had Rus always looked so delicate? So fragile? Edge wanted to look away. He didn’t want to see Rus crumbling so pitifully in Muffet’s grasp. She was going to crush him, break him, destroy him. He was going to die…_

Edge closed his eyes…

Then Muffet screamed. It was shrill and ghastly, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Edge was almost afraid to open his eyes.

He found Muffet writhing on the floor, clutching her wrist. Two puncture wounds pierced her purple skin, which bubbled greyish ichor. Astoundingly, Edge was reminded of the magma pans they’d passed over not two days ago.

Rus had pried himself free of her grip. The same black ooze that spewed from Muffet’s wound clung to his teeth. He scrambled across the floor for the knife. Edge could see the silver hilt cutting into the bone of his hand like a hot iron brand, but he held it firmly. His movements lacked the agility they had before as he crawled back towards Muffet, dragging one leg across the floorboards and leaving a trail of marrow in his wake. His breaths were sharp and hoarse, but there was fury in his eyes.

Though she was still groaning in pain, Muffet fought him back. He aimed the knife at her chest but she caught his wrist, forcing it away. Her bitten arm hung limp at her side, black veins creeping up to her elbow. Rus pressed his other hand onto the knife, the silver scorching his bone as he tried to force the blade down. He was panting with effort, while Muffet hissed and pushed back against him with every available hand she had.

But she was fighting a losing battle against gravity and the toxic venom that was quickly spreading up her arm and towards her soul. With a final strained cry, she slumped, and the knife sunk into her chest with a chilling wet crunch. All her eyes widened at once, then glazed over. Her body went limp.

Edge could feel movement returning to his limbs. They trembled when he tried to lift himself. He managed to crawl to the edge of the bed, tumbling onto the floor, ungainly.

Rus was staring down at Muffet, still clutching the knife, even as his hands burned. “R…s…” Edge tried to say, but his throat was closed. Rus didn’t hear him, his eyes still trained on Muffet. He slowly pulled the knife out. It trembled in his hands. Tears stained his face, and he released a choked breath before driving the knife back into Muffet’s chest.

“you have one life,” he sobbed, slamming the knife in again. “ _one_ life, and this is what you do with it.”

“Rus,” Edge said desperately, dragging himself across the floor, his body still only half-mobile.

Rus plunged the knife into Muffet’s chest, over and over, whimpering. “you monster. you sick, fucked up—”

“ _Rus._ ” Edge caught his wrist and Rus stopped, looking at him sharply. He was covered in black ichor—and dust. There was fire in his eyes. They burned amber, almost red. Every drop of sweet gold was gone from them. “It’s okay,” Edge whispered, gently cupping his hands. “I’m here. It’s okay…”

Rus allowed Edge to pry the knife from his hands. The bone beneath was charred. Edge placed the knife on the floor and looked at Rus. “you’re alive,” Rus said, simply. Edge nodded. Rus’s expression was tremulous, fresh reddened tears pooling in his sockets.

“I’m okay,” Edge whispered.

“i—”

“Rus.” Edge cupped his face with a shaking hand, fighting the venom in his system to keep himself upright. “You’re here. You came back.”

“i tried to… edge, i almost—”

“I’m alive,” Edge said, firmly. “And you’re here. Nothing else matters.”

Breath hitching, Rus crumpled into Edge’s arms, burying his head against his chest. Edge closed his eyes and cradled him close, warmth pulsing through him. It was like inhaling the fresh air after years of holding his breath. Finally, he could _hold_ Rus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start getting a little fluffier from here. ~~I promise.~~


	11. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to mend bones and stitch up wounds (both external and internal).
> 
>  **Warnings:** Implied past sexual assault (attempted). This chapter also involves a series of intrusive thoughts and flashbacks, which you can avoid by skipping the strikethrough text. However, the implied attempted sexual assault is fairly prevalent throughout the chapter. This is largely comfort, though, and objectively a pretty happy chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Summary for previous chapter (warning for mentions of attempted sexual assault):**
> 
> From Edge's perspective -- Rus drinks from Edge until he's virtually unconscious, then stops, feeling guilty about it. He leaves and Edge passes out.
> 
> Edge wakes up in Muffet's garden, and his HP has mostly been replenished. He and Muffet talk (in an unfriendly manner) and it is hinted at that Edge used to "work" for her. Muffet tells Edge that he still owes her payment for the silver and the collar she traded him.  
> (Small side not that is somewhat relevant _this_ chapter: Muffet eats a piece of 'silver fruit' which is harmful to vampires). It is revealed that the Royal Guard from the previous chapter was working for Muffet, and intended to bring both Edge and Rus to her, but was unsuccessful at capturing Rus.
> 
> Muffet takes Edge back to her bedroom and attempts to sexually assault him. She also temporarily paralyses him with her venom.  
> Rus finds them before Muffet can get far, and he fights her. She almost manages to kill him (breaking a few of his bones), but Rus manages to get a hold of Edge's knife and he stabs her multiple times (although she does not explicitly die). As the knife is silver, Rus's hands are severely burnt.
> 
> (Final cute moment!) Edge and Rus hold each other and it's hella fluffy.
> 
> _And now, for more fluff..._

Days may have passed, or seconds, and Edge would not have been able to tell the difference. He was acutely aware of every small movement Rus made in his arms. His body trembled—a subtle, barely there quiver that shook his bones. His chest rose and fell in an uneven pattern, his breaths harsh and ragged. His hands were charred, yet he clung to Edge tightly, fingers curled around his ribs.

With nothing but the thin silk robe hanging off his shoulders, Edge was all but naked. _~~He was dirty. Shameful. Everything personal—all his flaws—on display against his will.~~_ But with Rus here. In his arms, protected. Edge felt safe.

A wretched cough shook Rus’s body, and he bent over, spit dribbling onto the carpet, red and grey. “What is it?” Edge asked, hoisting Rus into his lap to study him. “Rus?” He choked again, coughing more grey onto the ground. “Rus, talk to me. What’s happening?”

Shaking his head, Rus took a gulp of air. “‘m fine,” he rasped. “just... spider’s magic.” Edge frowned, tightening his hold.

He couldn’t look at her. He knew she wasn’t dead—not yet. He could still hear her. Still hear her breaths. _~~Still feel her sharp fingers crawling over his bones.~~_

“silver,” Rus muttered, wiping ichor and saliva from his chin. His sleeve came away grimy. “not a lot,” he added, at the panic that must have crossed Edge’s features. “i’ll be fine.”

Swallowing, Edge lifted a shaking hand to Rus’s face, cupping it. Rus’s eye-lights settled on him. The fury had left them. The red had simmered down to a dull amber. He was tired. It was embedded in his features. Thin, faded red veins ran outward from his sockets, creeping down his jaw and neck.

Then it struck Edge. The silver fruit. Muf— _her_ magic had contained silver. Not a lot. Not enough to kill Rus. But, paired with his injuries…

“We need to leave,” Edge said, pushing himself up on trembling arms. Venom wore him down, but he stubbornly fought against it. He picked up his knife. It was still gritty with ichor and dust. ~~Still smelled like scorched marrow~~. He wiped it clean on the silk robe before returning it to his inventory. He doubted he’d see his armour again.

“Can you walk?” he asked, helping Rus to his feet. Rus leaned into him heavily, wincing sharply when he put weight on his right leg. “No, you can’t,” Edge sighed.

“i can,” Rus said hoarsely. “i’ll be okay. just—” He stumbled and collapsed against Edge. His sockets were squeezed shut in agony. _~~How many bones had she broken? Three? Four? Edge could still hear the resounding cracks.~~_

Breathing in, Edge crouched and hooked his arms beneath Rus’s knees and lower spine. Rus clenched his teeth and buried a whimper, but sagged into Edge’s arms. His weight barely registered. His body was drained, lacking the magic to give him substance. “i-i’m sorry,” he said weakly.

Inhaling, Edge shook his head, stroking the back of Rus’s neck. “Hold onto me,” he said. “Don’t let go.” Rus wrapped his arms around Edge’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder. Edge could feel his burnt hands trembling—smell the scorched marrow. He remained still for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling of being on his legs. The faint weight of Rus’s arms around him trickled strength back into him. He began to walk towards the door on shaking legs.

His bare feet felt sticky—and gritty. Edge knew what it was. _~~Her black ichor, mingling with the beginnings of her dust.~~ _ He didn’t linger on it. _~~Never mind that he could still hear her gasping for life, feel her hands on him, slipping beneath his flimsy silk robe, touching…~~_

Still unsteady on his feet, he ambled from the room, and didn’t look back.

The corridor outside was empty, but Edge knew he couldn’t trust it to remain that way. Distantly, he could hear the soft pattering of feet and the clink of armour. Faraway shouts echoed through the maze of passages.

Edge walked as quickly as his legs would allow; they were still gaining feeling, magic rushing through him again and padding his joints. ~~Expelling the venom~~. Rus’s face was buried in the nape of his neck. He was whimpering softly, shuddering in Edge’s arms. “I’ve got you,” Edge whispered. “It’ll be okay.” He spoke meaningless words as he walked, and not only for Rus’s sake.

The hem of his silk robe tickled his femur, and he tried not to flinch. _~~She’s not here. She’s still back in the room, dying. She’ll be dead soon. She can’t touch you.~~ _ Edge had clothes in his inventory—not much, but it would be better than this. _Anything_ would be better than this… _~~His nakedness was making him nauseous. The memory was still too near~~. Rus. Focus on Rus. Hold onto him. Get him to safety_. Right now, Rus’s body was the only thing shielding Edge from the chill of the desolate corridors. _~~And shame. And disgust.~~ _

It had been years since his last ‘visit’, but Edge was still familiar with the intricate tunnels of this place. ~~Too familiar~~. Though they haunted him, he was grateful for that knowledge now. He knew which turns to take. Knew the direction of safety. Of escape.

Trembling in his arms, Rus’s brittle fingers tightened around the back of Edge’s neck. He groaned softly. “gh—edge…”

“It’s okay,” Edge hushed. “We’re almost there. I’m going to look after you, okay? You’re safe with me.”

Footfalls echoed off the stone walls. A shout rang through the passage, and without a second’s thought, Edge pushed open a side door and hurried inside, shutting it behind him. Two sets of footsteps clanked past.

“‘nform Miss Muffet—’nother one a’ Undyne’s bands got in. They’re taken care of, but we need clean-up crew.”

“What about the vampire?”

“Dunno. Got away.”

“Spider’s not gonna be happy ‘bout that.”

“When’s she ever ‘appy?”

“Seemed pretty happy when that skeleton got brought in…”

With a shudder, Edge stopped listening. He crept further backward, until his back hit a wall. The room was small and cramped, more likely used for storage than living. He held his breath when the footsteps passed.

“You go ahead then. I ain’t interruptin’ ‘er. I’ll go back.”

“Alrigh’. Enjoy cleanin’ up.”

“How many dead?”

“Five a’ theirs, couple’ve ours. The rest got away.”

“You tell ‘er then, I’m headin’ back.”

“Suit yerself.”

The voices faded down the corridor but Edge remained where he was, fixed to the spot. _Dead?_ His first instinct was to glance down at Rus—at the vampire. Surely…? He wouldn’t—

No. He wouldn’t. Edge dispelled the thought. He ignored his brother’s voice, screaming reason at him in his head. _it’s a vampire. of course it killed them. it’s in its nature. it’s a killer._

Edge tightened his hold on Rus. He was only half-conscious in his arms, weak from lack of magic and injury. Edge closed his eyes and stroked the back of his skull, cradling him. He granted himself this moment of respite, breathing slowly, inhaling Rus’s scent. _~~She hadn’t gone near the bite on his neck. That part of him was untouched. That part still belonged to him. Edge~~_ ~~needed _this. Needed Rus._~~

Balancing against the wall, Edge shrugged off the silk robe and dropped it in a pile. Had he a match, he may have burned it. It was best forgotten. From his inventory he drew a cloak, and pulled it around his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but the heavy fabric felt familiar. His body felt safe. _~~Safe from unwanted eyes and hands.~~_

Gathering Rus up in his arms, he leaned against the door and listened. The corridor outside was silent. Carefully, he pushed open the door. Rus had gone lax in his arms, but he still held onto Edge, his burnt fingers stiff.

Edge swiftly navigated the lair, turning left—no, right—to avoid the sound of voices and the echo of armour. The stone was cold beneath his bare feet. He could feel the chill of night air creeping beneath his cloak. The way out was near.

He didn’t look down at the first crunch of dust beneath his feet. It coated the floor in thick piles. _How many dead?_ In his arms, Rus stirred. Awakened by the smell of death.

His simmering red eyes found Edge’s, and Edge stared at him, swallowing. “They’re dead,” he remarked. Dust kicked up around his ankles, catching on his cloak. Rus only looked at him, his sockets half-lidded—weariness rendered him silent. His eyes drifted closed again. “Rus.” Edge’s voice was a raspy whisper. Unbidden, the question tumbled from his mouth. “Did you do this?”

Rus barely stirred in Edge’s arms. Tears burned Edge’s sockets and he cursed himself. “You didn’t,” he whispered. “Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Never. You’re not—”

“‘Round this corner?”

“Yeah, piles’ve it. You make sure ya clean it all up, yeah? No ‘alf jobs.”

The sound of voices startled Edge into focus. Squeezing Rus to his chest, and ignoring the protesting ache in his arms, he hurried on through the dust. He began to run when he heard shouts far behind him. “Get a healer! Get a healer! She’s been attacked. The Spider’s been attacked. Spread out. Search every inch of this place!”

Edge scrambled up a flight of stairs and the voices faded behind him. He was relieved to find the old trapdoor still in place, dusty from disuse. Back in his time here, it had served as a private entrance for deliveries of the less legal variety. Discretion was less important these days. Most were willing to turn a blind eye to illegal activity if there was something in it for them.

The door was unguarded, and heavy with cobwebs. Edge swallowed bile as he cleared them away and pushed open the trapdoor. _~~The web clung to his hands, sticky, crawling like fingers.~~_

Moonlight spilled across the baked earth on the surface, and biting cold air hit Edge’s face. He clutched precariously onto Rus, clambering out onto the dry grass. Insects chirped in the flaking trees around him, and eerie shadows flickered across the hidden stone pathway. An expanse of jagged red rock spanned out behind him, concealing the entrances to the parlour. The land ahead sloped upward, and Edge could see the thick trees of the Bleeding Woods—and beyond that, the turrets of the Capital.

Kneeling on the cracked ground, he clutched onto Rus, balancing his frail body against his chest. At last, a sob broke out of him. “You came back for me,” he gasped. “You saved me, you c-came back.” Rus was limp, leaning bodily into Edge. His breathing was raspy against Edge’s acoustic meatus, the sound soft and barely there. “I’m going to look after you,” Edge whispered, running his fingers down Rus’s spine. “You’re safe with me, I promise. I’m going to keep you safe.”

The words tumbled from his mouth deliriously. He scrambled to hold onto Rus, to keep him close. In that moment, Rus was the only thing tethering Edge to this world. And Edge didn’t let go.

 

After finding the stables, Edge unroped a mare from her post and lifted Rus onto her back. He climbed up behind him, holding him close. They rode through the night, away from Hotland and the Spider’s underground lair. Although he feared a pursuit, not once did Edge look over his shoulder.

The dry flora and sandy earth faded to greens and deep reds, and the trees around them grew tall and thick-trunked. Flowers pushed through the mud beside small streams that ran like veins through the Bleeding Woods, so named for the red sap that oozed from their trunks. When the sun began to glint off the water, Edge reined them to a stop beneath the shade of the trees. He carefully lifted Rus from the mare, careful not to jostle him; his body was still fragile and broken.

Edge’s bones ached from the night’s ride. He knelt by the stream and splashed his face, the water like ice. He drank thirstily, shivering when the cold water rushed through his mana lines. He tethered their mare to a tree near the stream, and she bowed her tired head to drink. Edge stroked her mane and closed his eyes, letting a thin stream of sunlight spill across his face, warming him.

He was still bare but for the cloak around his shoulders. A chill breeze touched the air and he shuddered, pulling his cloak tight. He glanced at Rus, asleep against a tree where he’d left him. His face was an unsettling picture—pale beyond what was natural and engraved with sickly veins.

Edge sat down against the tree trunk beside him. He shifted across the ground and leaned into Rus, taking one of his hands and stroking his fingers. A thin layer of black flaked away beneath his touch and Edge let go of Rus’s hand sharply. The silver had left its mark. Edge dipped his head and squeezed his sockets closed, guilt devouring him from the inside. _His_ knife had done this.

His bones trembled as a light breeze crept beneath the warmth of his cloak. His naked feet were numb against the dew-damp ground. But he didn’t dare light a fire. They were just outside the Capital, and bandits and raiders roamed these parts. Not that he had much worth stealing. He eyed Rus. Not much.

A quick search through his inventory yielded him a few dried apricots left over from Undyne’s supply. Most of his HP had been replenished in the parlour. The memory tasted bitter. _~~He needed to wash away the taste of her tongue in his mouth~~. _ He tried to push back the thoughts as he chewed, tried to bury them, to wipe them from his mind.

 _ ~~Her mouth on his neck, his ribs, his ilia~~_ _._ Nausea stirred his soul. He heavily swallowed back a mouthful of apricot, and stared at the trickle of red spilling from the tree ahead of him. _~~‘I think you’ll find that you quite enjoy yourself—maybe even as much as I do’.~~_ Edge clenched his teeth and squeezed his sockets closed, twitching. _~~Behind his sockets, flashes of her face—~~ _ His chest felt tight, the breath crushing out of him. _~~‘You won’t remember that creature once we’re finished, dearie’~~. _ Edge traced the bite wound on his neck. He pressed his fingertips into the bone, digging in until he felt pain. His fingers came away marrow-stained.

To his left, he caught a sudden glimmer of red. Rational thought eluded him and he wrenched his knife from his inventory. Rus stared at him with wide sockets, and Edge blinked. “I—” He let the knife drop to his side. He inhaled deeply. “You’re awake.” Rus’s eyes were fixed on the wound at Edge’s neck, his eye-lights blood red. “You’re hungry,” Edge added quietly.

Rus pulled his gaze away, shame crossing his features. “i’m fine.” His voice wavered, thick and gritty. The veins threading his jaw and neck had darkened.

“You’re starving.” Edge didn’t think. He moved forward and looped a hand around the back of Rus’s head. “You can—feed from me. Take what you need.”

Staring at Edge wildly, Rus shook his head and scrambled back. “no. no, i can’t. you—you were just—”

“You need this.”

“i tried to kill you!”

Edge shut his sockets and dropped his head, trembling. “Please.” He sounded pathetic. Begging for this. Begging for the bite of a vampire like a whore. _~~Her mouth on his neck. ‘You won’t remember it.’~~ _ “I need this,” he whispered. “Please—Rus. I need this.” _~~He needed to undo what she did to him~~. _ He swallowed his tears, teeth gritted, and touched his fingers to the bite wound on his neck. “She—she wouldn’t touch…” His breath shuddered as he inhaled. “Not here. Not where you…”

There was sorrow in Rus’s eyes—no pity, only pain. Cautiously, he crept closer to Edge, sockets wincing shut. “where i bit you—when i tried to kill you.”

Edge shook his head. “You didn’t. I’m alive.”

“no, i could have—”

“You thought I was going to let you be raped,” Edge snapped, and Rus fell silent. Edge took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I would never have—I didn’t know what to do. But I wouldn’t have condemned you to that. Not you… not anyone.”

“i—i know,” Rus said. “after i—” He trembled. “i realised. and i came back. i knew she had you. i couldn’t let her—”

Rus’s breath hitched sharply when Edge caught him in a firm embrace. He wrapped Rus in his arms and held him. “Thank you,” he said, inhaling Rus, burying his face in his shoulder. “Th-thank you.”

He felt Rus squirming in his hold. “edge…”

Edge pulled away abruptly. “I’m sorry. You’re hurt. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off at the look on Rus’s face. His eye-lights were burning, fangs extended. The veins appeared to glimmer and burn at his throat. He was trembling.

“i’m sorry,” he whimpered, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. Edge tried not to wince at the sight of his charred palm.

“No.” Edge caught him and carefully moved his hand. “Feed from me. You need this.”

Rus turned his head away, out of Edge’s hold. “i sh-shouldn’t—”

“I need to feel you,” Edge said. Rus opened his mouth, eyes going wide.

“i—”

“I need to stop feeling _her,_ ” Edge said desperately, clutching to Rus’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, shame crawling through him. “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m making this about me. I shouldn’t—”

“you’re allowed to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Edge said shortly. “I want to forget it. I just—I want this. I need something to happen to me because I _want_ it. I want… you. I want you.” He stroked Rus’s jaw, running his fingers over the smooth bone; over the dark veins of starvation that ran down his face. Edge marvelled at his control. “This is…” Edge swallowed. “Mutually beneficial.”

Rus gave him a faint smile. There was pain in his expression still, and he was slouched, unsteady stiffened hand bracing his ribcage, leg limp on the ground. Edge shifted toward him, letting his robe fall away from his collarbone. He touched the centre of his clavicle and shuddered. _~~He could still feel her mouth against the bone~~. _ “Here,” he said. “Right here. Please.” He swallowed, giving a stiff shake of his head. “I—I’m sorry. You’re free to say no. I don’t want you to think that—”

The grazed tips of Rus’s fingers on the back of his neck silenced him. His eye-lights burned under the shadows of the woods, warm and inviting. At the first touch of Rus’s mouth to his clavicle, Edge whimpered, tensing. Rus drew back sharply. “i’m sorry, did i—”

“No,” Edge breathed, tipping his head back. “No. Keep going. Please.”

Rus hesitated, searching Edge’s expression. “edge, are you sure this is what you want?” Despite his caution, hunger twitched in his features.

“Yes,” Edge said resolutely. “Yes, I am. I want this. I—I need it.” He sighed deeply and leaned back against the tree. Sunlight threaded through the canopy above them; golden light glinting off the red sap of the trees. Edge rested his fingers on Rus’s cheekbone, then traced his mouth and fangs. “I’m asking a lot of you.” The admission was difficult, sticking in his throat. “I’ve—I’ve done a lot to hurt you. I don’t deserve—” He swallowed his words. “You don’t deserve what I’ve put you through.”

Edge reached into his inventory, and Rus watched him silently. He found the silver collar, and his insides curled with disgust. Rus eyed it warily, his jaw set. He glanced up at Edge, and the look on his face made Edge’s soul ache. The collar felt heavy in his hands. His jaw tightened and he gripped both sides of it, pulling until his arms quivered. He breathed a sliver of LV—cold, burning _hatred_ —into his efforts, and the metal warped. Panting, he dropped the disfigured collar onto the ground, letting it settle beneath the foliage.

Rus was staring at him. He held his hands in front of his chest, quivering. “edge, you…”

Edge reached for Rus and pulled him into his lap. Rus made a pained noise when his broken leg shifted, but his gaze was honing in on Edge’s collarbone. Edge nodded firmly, and Rus ducked his head. The graze of his teeth over the bone made Edge shiver pleasantly. He cupped the back of Rus’s skull. “This is what I want,” he said. “I want this.” He was in control. Rus would stop if he asked… but Edge didn’t intend to ask.

He gasped when Rus’s fangs pierced his collarbone.

Rus’s venom burned through his clavicle in a wash of euphoria, expelling what lingered of the Spider. Edge held him in place, breathing heavily. Rus’s drained soul manifested close to his chest, and Edge watched as his magic rushed into it. Dazzling red, tinged with Rus’s own gold. Edge threaded his fingers into Rus’s blouse, caressing the back of his skull. His bones quivered. He dragged Rus closer to him, pressing their bodies together.

“Oh, stars Rus. K-keep going…” His life force flowed into Rus’s soul. He felt, more than heard, the gradual mending of Rus’s broken bones. He could practically sense his magic rushing through Rus’s body, healing him.

And with the outward flow of his magic, came an influx of satisfaction. Rus’s venom pulsed through him, calming, cleansing, purging what remained of the Spider.

When Rus broke away, Edge whimpered, shaking his head. _~~Her fangs on his ribs~~. _ “Here,” he pleaded, peeling his cloak away from his ribcage. “Here, please.”

Teeth marks marred his ribs. Something flickered in Rus’s expression when he saw them, and for a moment, Edge caught a glimpse of the monster who had plunged his knife into the Spider’s chest.

Then the gentle monster that was Rus returned. He sought affirmation in Edge’s expression, studying him. Edge nodded. “I—I need… yes.” His words ended in a soft sigh when Rus’s breath touched his ribs.

He groaned when Rus bit down, and a surge of warmth shot through him, almost overwhelming. Panting, he clung to Rus. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathed. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck. Thank you—thank you, Rus.”

Edge felt Rus sigh against him as more magic gushed into his soul. When he pulled away this time, his eye-lights were a brilliant gold, and the veins in his face had vanished. His hands were still brittle, the burn of silver permanently engraved into the bone. But when he rested his palm against Edge’s cheekbone, he felt warm again.

Edge lay unclothed beneath him, but he felt nothing near vulnerable. He felt protected. He reached for Rus, unmindful of the trails of magic and marrow that trickled from the fresh bites. Enclosing Rus solidly in his arms, Edge held him, their bodies flush.

“i—i... is this…?” Briefly, Rus froze, stunned by the gesture. His soul had sunk back to his chest, but Edge could still feel it—the healthy, well-fed hum. He purred against Rus’s neck. “o… oh.”

Rus relaxed and melted into his arms, and Edge’s breath caught. He swallowed back tears and clenched his teeth. “I don’t—I don’t deserve—” he stumbled over his words, but Rus silenced him gently, stroking his cervical vertebrae with unsteady fingers.

“it doesn’t matter what you do or do not deserve. if this is what you need, then i’m here.”

“Yes,” Edge said, closing his eyes. He rested his chin on Rus’s shoulder, breathing deeply. “I need to forget about…” His chest tightened.

“i understand,” Rus said softly, gently cradling Edge’s skull. “more than you can know. believe me. i understand.” Edge felt him squirm. “i—i need this too.” He pressed his mouth against Edge’s neck and inhaled. “this feels… it feels good. it feels so good. it’s been so long since i’ve felt this good.” Such a confession from a vampire would almost certainly have frightened Edge before. Now, it only made his spine tingle.

Nothing but soft breaths and gentle caresses passed between them. Edge’s spine began to ache, pressed against the tree trunk, Rus’s weight on top of him. His bones were growing stiff and cold, and sleep closed in on him. An exhaustion bred of days of struggling to fight—against enemies and his own mind.

Now, his thoughts were quiet. His brother’s voice had ceased to plague him. The guilt which had been eating him alive had dwindled. The shame over what he felt for the vampire—for Rus—diminished.

Rus’s chest rose and fell slowly against his. Asleep. Edge might have moved him, but this was good. Right here. Just like this. This was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should note--I am in no way trying to represent the experiences of sexual assault survivors here. I understand that this is likely not a conventional coping method for people, but... this isn't exactly a conventional situation (and in addition, everyone's experiences are different). But again, this piece of fiction is in no way intended to be a representation of real-life survivor experiences.


	12. A moment to breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For now, Edge and Rus are safe. But darkness looms on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! It's been way too long since I've updated this fic. I'm really glad to finally have something to post. There are only a couple of chapters left after this. I can't make any promises about how quickly they'll be ready to post, since I've had to rework the ending I had planned. But I'd like to get this fic finished, so hopefully, I can buckle down and get it done. Thank you for being patient!
> 
> Warning for discussion of past murder and (non-explicitly) the events of chapter 10. Though, it's very brief, and no details are given.

The ground trembled and Edge jolted awake. On top of him, Rus stirred, sockets cracking open. “wha—” He gasped as Edge flipped them over, shielding Rus with his body. Rus stared at him, wide-eyed. “what are you doing?” he whispered.

Edge pressed a finger to his own mouth, shaking his head. The woods had grown dark. They’d slept through the day. The trees were silent but for the chirping of insects… and the soft rumble of hooves.

Swiftly, Edge climbed to his feet. He pulled Rus up and took his arm. “Move quickly,” he murmured, making for their mare, who was grazing near the stream.

He was brought to an abrupt stop when a sharp tip of metal pressed against his throat. “Not another step,” said a low, clean voice. Edge looked slowly at the figure above him. An armoured Madjick sat astride a horse, his spear pressed against Edge’s cervical vertebrae. Edge swallowed and lifted his chin, exposing his throat in submission. He kept his hand locked securely around Rus’s arm while Rus clung to his sleeve. The vampire, he would not be yielding so easily.

Slowly, riders began to emerge through the trees. All armoured, all finely dressed. Their cloaks were purple and silver, but they bore no sigil or crest. Too wealthy to be raiders, but they weren’t royalty. The Royal Guards wore red and gold.

They quickly surrounded Edge and Rus, the Madjick holding his spear still against Edge’s throat. Edge remained silent, watching the Madjick with razor focus. A sliver of sickening fear ran through him. Madjicks had been known to serve the Spider in the past. His bones crawled at the possibility. _He couldn’t go back. He_ _couldn’t_.

“What is your business in the Bleeding Woods?” the Madjick asked. Edge didn’t speak, and the Madjick lifted his spear to Edge’s chin, tipping it upward. “Answer me, traveller, or your life will be forfeit.”

“We’re traders,” Edge replied. “On our way to the Capital.”

The Madjick’s mouth pressed into a firm line, and his eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” He glanced around the trees. “Then perhaps you can tell me where your goods are?” He looked at Edge, who met him with a silent frown. “And this—” The Madjick moved his spear to Rus, and Edge flinched, stepping backward to shield him. “This looks like a vampire to me.” Edge clutched Rus tightly behind him, and the Madjick studied them with a faint smile. “Freshly fed, too, by the looks of it. Your doing, I assume?” His gaze wandered to the fresh wounds at Edge’s clavicle.

Edge said nothing, but his grip on Rus tightened. Around them, the other riders murmured softly amongst each other. Dismounting, the Madjick stepped up to Rus and reached for him. A growl built in Edge’s throat and he put himself between them. “Don’t,” he hissed.

Sighing, the Madjick stepped back, lifting his hands apologetically. “You can relax, traveller. I mean your pet no harm.” He eyed Rus over Edge’s shoulder. “Though you would fetch me quite a pretty penny in the Capital, sweetheart.” His teeth curled into a grin, and Rus stepped closer to Edge, fingers locking around his arm.

The Madjick tipped his head back and laughed. “He knows his master.” Edge frowned and the Madjick, shook his head. “The two of you are far too tense. We’ll have to work on that.” He glanced at his riders. “Get this one some proper clothes,” he said, motioning at Edge. “Then bind their hands, and get them on horses—not the same one, of course. We can’t have them running off.” He glanced at Rus, and winked. “Especially not this one. Mettaton will be thrilled to meet you.”

 

Mettaton’s palace was unlike any other in the Kingdom—or so it was rumoured. Edge had never seen it. It was hidden away in the deepest corner of the Bleeding Woods, tucked behind a towering waterfall that crashed down into a river that flowed onward to the eastern sea. Its turrets peeked through the curtain of water, and could easily be mistaken for overhanging rocks to the untrained eye.

The riders led them through a narrow crevice in the side of the mountain. Edge’s eyes didn’t stray from Rus throughout the journey. He was astride a horse with one of the other riders a few paces ahead. The rider was talking to him, but Edge couldn’t hear what he was saying. He watched them with clenched teeth. “Don’t mind ‘im, love, ‘e just likes ta flirt,” said the rider sharing Edge’s horse.

Edge ignored her. He couldn’t focus with Rus out of his reach. He needed him. He needed to hold him again. He needed Rus. In his arms. At his side. He needed him to be _safe._ ~~Needed to feel safe~~.

They reined to a stop outside the great marble walls of the castle. It was built beneath the mountain, reaching the ceiling of the gaping cavern. By foot, three of the riders escorted them through a stone courtyard, whose strange statues wore helmets of copper. They ascended the palace steps and waited before the towering oak doors.

Edge glanced up and swallowed. Rus stood just a few paces away. One of the riders had a hand on his shoulder. Edge’s skull was ringing. He clenched his fists against hot magic and looked away.

The Madjick knocked three times on the heavy doors. “What is your business?” came a voice from the other side.

“We come bearing gifts,” the Madjick said with a complacent smile over his shoulder. Edge kept his gaze low, fighting to control his magic. “For the Lord of this palace. I think he will be quite pleased with these ones.”

The doors creaked and eased open, revealing a marble entrance hall with crystal glass hanging from the ceiling. The doorman’s eyes went wide when he saw Rus, but the Madjick put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll need to speak with Mettaton at once.”

Swallowing, the doorman nodded slowly, though his eyes didn’t stray from Rus. “Certainly—he’s in his chambers. I’ll inform him of your arrival…”

“No. Wait here. Help my riders keep a watch on these two.” Nodding at his compatriots, the Madjick disappeared up the velvet staircase. Edge shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the doorman. He hovered a distance away, but he was still staring at Rus.

The palace echoed with sounds that felt entirely out of place. The crashing of water, the tinkle of soft music, laughter, and the chink of armour. Edge flinched sharply when something touched his fingertips. He looked up… Rus. It was Rus. He wasn’t looking at Edge, but with some careful manoeuvring of his bonds, he curled his fingers around Edge’s wrist, squeezing gently. The assurance, though soft, quelled Edge’s mounting agitation.

“Oh! There they are.” Edge’s gaze snapped to the top of the staircase. A monster, whose body was entirely clad in delicate, embroidered armour, was hurrying down the steps. Not a shred of feather, flesh or scale was visible beneath the silver plates. His armour was light, engraved and embellished with roses and vines, and he drifted, more than walked.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, he beckoned to the Madjick, who hovered behind him. “Yes, Met—My Lord?” The Madjick cleared his throat.

“Darling, please do tell me why our guests’ hands are bound?”

The Madjick blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Well—well, we just wanted to make sure they wouldn’t—“

“Are they thieves?”

“Not… no?”

“Slaves?”

“... no.”

The clad monster waved his hand flippantly. “Criminals or prisoners of any sort?”

“I—I really don’t—“

“They are guests!” the monster declared. “Unbind them this instant.” With a quick nod, the Madjick hurried forward and untied Edge and Rus’s hands. The moment he was free, Edge pulled Rus against him. The knot in his chest loosened when Rus held him back. “Oh… you poor dears. Frightened half to death.”

“Are you Mettaton?” Edge asked. Around him, the riders and doorman cast anxious glances at the clad monster.

“Mettaton…” the monster echoed curiously. “Why—yes, that is one of my names. You may use it if you wish.”

“What do you want with us?”

“With you? Nothing at all, darling, nothing at all.”

“Forgive us for not believing you,” Edge said tightly, angling his body ever so slightly to shield Rus.

Mettaton turned his head toward Rus, and through his visor, Edge could see only black. “There is no need for forgiveness nor apologies. I will confess, I am not entirely disinterested in you.” He took a slow step toward Rus, and Edge stiffened. Mettaton all but ignored him. “Oh, what a fine specimen you are, darling,” he said wondrously. He lifted a metal hand but Rus shied away. He let his hand drop. “Can I fetch you anything to eat? Anyone?” He took a step closer and touched Rus’s face. “Ah, but you have already eaten, I see…”

Edge tried to pull Rus away. “D-don’t—“

“Oh you’ll have to forgive my curiosity,” Mettaton said, shaking his head and stepping back. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a vampire. A living one, at least.” He dipped his helmet in the direction of the empty hilt at Edge’s hip. “My riders tell me you are a hunter.”

Edge frowned, looking at Rus. “I’m—“

Mettaton’s quiet laughter echoed eerily from his helmet. “A complicated situation, if ever I’ve seen one. It is of no concern to me what you call yourself, but should you wish to recover within my walls, you shall bring no harm to any other creature here—living or otherwise.”

Scowling, Edge put a protective hand on Rus’s arm. “I had no intention of—“

“Of course not. I thought I ought to warn you nonetheless. Old habits die hard.” Mettaton lifted his hand an inch toward Rus, then reconsidered and tucked it back against his side. “You are welcome here as long as you should wish. I’ll have my servants prepare rooms for you.” He nodded his head at Rus. “Before sunrise. Our courtesy.”

 

****

 

Edge slept restlessly, but he slept, just a little. He and Rus were taken to separate rooms, and come midday, he was all but climbing the walls. Mettaton’s servants brought him a plate of fruits and cheeses he was too hungry to reject. He ate ravenously, almost clearing the plate within ten minutes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten in such splendour—if ever. They’d also drawn him a bath and given him fresh clothes to wear. Mettaton’s healer had offered to tend to his bite wounds, but he’d refused.

They still tingled gently, and the bone felt cool. Carefully, he lifted his blouse, and traced his fingertips over the small indents on his ribs. Magic suffused him and he shuddered, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply.

There was a knock on the door and he jerked, pulling his shirt back down. “Who is it?”

“it’s rus.”

Edge’s soul pulsed. Just the sound of Rus’s voice made the bite marks prickle. “C-come in,” he called, sitting up. Rus entered, smiling at Edge from the doorway.

“you clean up nice,” he said, his eye-lights dipping.

Edge cleared his throat and nodded. “As do you.” Scrubbed clean, Rus’s bones were like porcelain, delicate and utterly pristine. The fresh blouse he was wearing was unstringed at the top, showcasing his clavicle and upper sternum…

Edge averted his eyes. “How are you?”

“good. well... okay. i had a—a nightmare.” Rus looked abashed, ducking his head. “it was nothing, really. i’m fine. but i couldn’t sleep, so i came to see you. i wanted to see if you were feeling okay.”

“I’m feeling fine.” _Now that you’re here._

“are you sure?” Rus frowned. “edge, you’ve been through a lot. i don’t want you to—”

“I’m fine,” Edge repeated firmly. He didn’t want to talk. Not now. Or think. Because if he stopped, for even a moment, his mind would linger on the foul memories he was trying so hard to—He banished the thoughts and straightened his blouse. “Would you like to sit down?” Smiling, Rus sat on the bed beside him. For the briefest of moments, his eye-lights darted to Edge’s collarbone, to where he’d marked Edge.

Cheekbones faintly flushed, he asked, “you didn’t heal them?”

Edge touched the wounds protectively, shaking his head. “No. I don’t want them healed.” Rus’s blush deepened and he looked down, failing to hide a smile.

“why not?” he asked, so softly. Edge couldn’t answer that. For one, he didn’t know the answer. ~~He did, but stars, he couldn’t say it. Not in a hundred years could he admit to craving Rus so much~~. Certainly not out loud. He held it inside him like a dangerous secret, and instead, took Rus’s hands and held them carefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said feebly, “for what I’ve done to you.”

Rus’s smile faded. “it’s okay.”

Edge took a deep breath. “No, it’s not. It will never be okay. I treated you without—without dignity or humanity. I used you. I was going to—” He swallowed against the words, and squeezed Rus’s hands. “I will always be sorry, and I will do everything I can to make amends.” He looked up, but Rus’s eyes were downcast, his mouth shut firmly. Tears glistened at the corners of his sockets, gold tinged with red. Edge cupped his face, tilting it up to meet his eye. “I’m so— _so_ sorry, Rus. I don’t hate you. I—I never did. I want you to know that.”

Rus shook his head, pulling his hands away to wipe a sleeve across his face. “it… felt a lot like hatred.”

Edge shut his sockets and inhaled. Shame pressed in on him, threatening to break him. “It wasn’t hatred. It was prejudice, bred from misunderstanding. I was taught that vampires lacked what truly makes us monsters—compassion, kindness, love. That vampires were nothing more than ruthless, cold-blooded killers. But I was the one who truly lacked those things.”

“i am a killer,” Rus said quietly.

“You have no LV.”

“vampires can’t gain lv.”

“But you didn’t kill when you were mortal.” Edge brushed his thumb over Rus’s jaw and Rus turned his face away.

“i’m not mortal though, am i?”

“I am. And I’ve killed. A lot.”

Rus shut his socket and pulled away, wrapping his arms around himself. “it’s not the same…”

“It isn’t.” Edge longed to reach for him and pull him into his arms, but he restrained himself. “I think you’re a good person,” he said softly.

Rus looked at him, sockets glistening. “oh? you have anything that can attest to that?”

“You saved my life. That is not something I take lightly.”

“i stopped someone from raping you.” Rus’s voice was cold. “that… that shouldn’t have even—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Edge snapped. He swallowed, ice suffusing his marrow. He clung to himself, forcing back the memories before they could surface. And how he yearned to _hold_ Rus. “You came back for me,” he said. “After everything I’ve done to you.”

Rus’s voice was just a thread of a whisper. “i couldn’t leave you… i just couldn’t.” He was trembling faintly, still hugging himself. Slowly, he leaned closer to Edge, their shoulders just touching. Edge couldn’t draw his eyes away from Rus’s face. He analysed each line, each ridge of bone; the pale flush of magic; the warm gold of his eyes; and between the vertebrae of his neck, red and gold, a mingle of their magic. All of it, an assurance that Rus was here, and that this moment of safety was real.

“do you remember their names?” Rus’s small whisper interrupted Edge’s thoughts. He looked up.

“Whose names?”

“the ones you’ve killed. do you know who they were?”

Edge frowned, considering. “No,” he said at length. “No, I don’t give them names. It makes it easier.” Rus was staring at the floor. “Do you?” Edge asked.

“most of them.”

Edge swallowed thickly. “And—when you killed them, was it…?”

“what? deliberate?” Edge nodded, and Rus shrugged. “in some ways i enjoyed it.” Edge’s soul churned with disgust, but he stayed silent. “when you get a taste of a mortal monster’s soul, it’s like… it’s like the monster ceases to exist. all that exists is their soul, and the magic inside it. and—and you don’t _want_ to stop yourself, even if you can.” Pain crossed Rus’s face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “even if it kills them.”

His words struck an uncomfortable chord with Edge. He shut his eyes and nodded. “I understand that feeling more than I care to.” Rus wiped a hand over his sockets and Edge squeezed his arm, then, in a very small voice, said, “Rus. Can I… can I hold you?” Rus made no response, but slowly, he inched closer to Edge again, and rested his head against his shoulder. Edge drew him in tightly, his soul thrumming. With Rus this close, he could feel the darkness in the corners of his mind, slowly slipping away.

 

By the time the sun was beginning to set outside, Rus was asleep against Edge’s side. Edge allowed himself just a moment to cherish the feeling, before carefully lowering Rus’s head onto the pillow. He then climbed off the bed and crept out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Out for an evening stroll?”

He spun sharply to see Mettaton approaching from across the landing. He stood up and straightened his blouse, carefully tying the strings to hide the bite marks on his collarbone. “I was just getting some fresh air.”

Mettaton glanced at the bedroom door. “Your vampire soundly asleep for the night?” Edge nodded, and Mettaton carefully closed a metal hand around the doorknob, peering into the room. For a monster clad entirely in steel, he was impressively silent. “Poor, sweet creature. We’ll let him rest tonight.” He turned back to Edge, and for the life of him, Edge couldn’t understand how a monster without a face could look so cold. “I must say, I am curious as to why a vampire hunter is traipsing around with a living vampire in his possession. This close to the Capital, no less.”

“My business is my own,” Edge said stiffly, avoiding looking into the black visor.

Mettaton hummed, nodding. “Indeed. It has nothing to do with the King’s interest in acquiring vampires, then?” Edge swallowed and clenched his fists, determinedly not looking away.

“None.”

“Personally, I’d hand over my life before presenting the King with such a precious item on a silver platter, utterly free of charge.” Edge narrowed his sockets, then flinched as Mettaton cupped his jaw roughly. “What is your interest, darling? Gold? You can trade far less valuable items for all the gold you could want.”

“No,” Edge said again, but his voice trembled. He shut his eyes, swallowing.

“Oh, but the King must have something you want.” Mettaton lifted his chin, studying him. “For all your shortcomings, you seem an honourable monster. Is it a lover?” Edge’s chin quivered, and he exhaled, pulling his face out of Mettaton’s grip.

“Brother. He… has my brother,” he confessed, his breath shaking. He wiped a hand over his face, a heavy breath wracking his chest. “He’s charged with the killing of a vampire, and will be executed unless I… replace the life of the slain creature…” Edge sunk to the floor, leaning back against the wall and pinching his nasal bridge as tears burned at his eyes. Mettaton stood over him silently. Running a hand over his skull, Edge shook his head, squeezing his sockets shut. “But I—I can’t,” he breathed, his voice breaking. “I can’t… finish this. Not now. Not—not him.”

“How pitiful.” Mettaton sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “To lose your soul to the very vampire you intended to sacrifice. Well, if it’s any comfort, your brother is probably already dead. Best take your sweet vampire and flee before the King discovers you’re here.”

Edge shook his head. “My brother’s execution is still a few days away…”

“The King is infamous for breaking his promises,” Mettaton said wistfully. “He sent you on an impossible quest. Vampires don’t exist in this world anymore. Stars know what kind of fortune bestowed one upon you.” He laughed quietly. “And you all but spat in fortune’s face. The King likely believes you to be dead anyway. He won’t wait for you. But he will steal away your vampire if you do not take him as far as you can from the Capital.”

“I can’t just… leave my brother.”

“Have you not been listening? Your brother is dead.”

Edge grit his teeth, exhaling. “You don’t know that.”

“I know the King. And he is not merciful.”

“I can’t give up on him,” Edge said stubbornly. “Not if there’s even a _chance_ —”

“And what do you plan to do?” Mettaton asked. “Will you march in there and demand the King release your brother? Oh! I’m certain he will if you ask graciously.”

“I don’t—I don’t _know._ ” Frustrated, Edge wiped the tears off his cheekbones. “I’ll… I’ll offer myself up. To—to take his place…”

“Then the King will have two vampire hunters in his dungeons instead of one.”

“Then I’ll fucking break him out of there,” Edge snapped. “I don’t care. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Mettaton tilted his helmet. “Anything, but turn over your vampire.”

Edge frowned, and nodded. “Anything but that.”

 

Living the life he did, Edge seldom got to see the sun. It was easy to forget its beauty. He stood at the edge of the lake and filled his water skin as the setting sun glinted pink and gold off the water. In the stables, he found the horse he and Rus had taken from the Spider. As promised by Mettaton, she’d been well taken care of. And, upon Mettaton’s orders, the Madjick had been forced to return Edge’s knife, if not grudgingly. Though Edge knew it would do him little good in the King’s castle, having it at his belt was comforting.

After readying his supplies for a morning departure, he returned indoors and headed upstairs to his room. Selfishly, he yearned for one more night with Rus at his side. A departing assurance that he was safe.

He exhaled as he opened the door—then froze when he found the bed empty. “Rus?” he called softly, glancing around the room. The bed looked slept in, but the covers had been tossed aside, as if Rus had left in a hurry. Swallowing, Edge walked swiftly from the room, checking Rus’s assigned chambers down the hall. Also empty. He rushed through the palace, growing frantic when he found the halls devoid of his vampire.

“Misplaced something, have you?” Mettaton called from the top of the stairs. Edge spun and stared at him. He was already feeling short of breath, his soul caught in a vice-like grip.

“Rus. Where is he?”

Mettaton stopped, tilting his head. “Your vampire? I have not seen him since he was asleep earlier this evening. You cannot find him?”

Edge clutched his skull, digging his fingers into the bone. “No… he’s. He’s not here. He’s not here…” He spun sharply at the sound of hurried footsteps… but it was only the stable boy. He bowed low before Mettaton.

“M’Lord. One a’ the horses is missin’.”

Mettaton studied the boy. “Missing? Are you quite certain?”

“I was countin’ em up fer the night, but we was short one. I believe it was the one tha’ belonged ta the hunter an’ ‘is vampire.” He gave Edge a curt nod. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.”

Edge stopped hearing him. Stopped hearing everything as the world slowed down around him and cold seized him, realisation crushing him.

 

 

The city walls loomed above Rus, with just a few hours to spare before dawn. He stroked his mare’s neck, and with a twinge in his chest, thought of Edge.

_My brother… he has my brother._

“stupid, self-sacrificing bastard,” Rus muttered, urging the horse onward. Even he could hear the hypocrisy of his own words.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to visit me on my tumblr, it's [@alicedragons](https://alicedragons.tumblr.com/)\--and [@dragonfics](https://dragonfics.tumblr.com/) for fic updates! (Both are NSFW, so please don't follow if you're under 18). It's about 90% Spicyhoney, and 10% Bullshit (sometimes vice-versa). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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